Unbound
by krolium
Summary: Look, Lucia Jensen has never been a romantic. She's a sorceress and a hermit, and her love life is laughably bad as it is. But, that doesn't mean she isn't offended when her soulmate, a werewolf named Matthias Andersen, breaks his bond with her before they even meet. Honestly, she can't be that bad, can she? Magic AU. DenNor, SuFin.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Alright, so I've only been waiting to publish this first chapter for like... A year? Given, it's undergone major edits since then, but still, I'm just so pumped... I'm not quite sure if this will get the same kind of attention _The Common Denominator_ has, but at least I have fun. ALSO, as a note: yes, I made Russia the villain, and he does do some highly, er, _questionable_ things in this fic, but be patient, dear reader. His story will be explained, and I refuse to make any character so flat as a mindless villain. That said, I still don't necessarily support his actions, but I will do my best to keep him in-character. So, uh, y'know, enjoy and stuff! I hope you like it!**

 _Tino never thought he would meet his end drowning in a bucket of water, and honestly, why would the thought have ever have occurred to him? It wasn't like he had been captured and tortured relentlessly for the last ten days or anything… Wait, scratch that._

 _In all honesty, Tino really should have seen it coming by now. This wasn't his first near-death experience that week, or even his second._

 _He had already started inhaling water (which was really quite painful, by the way), and his vision was starting to fade to black as he began to lose consciousness…_

 _That was when heaven had mercy on him and he was yanked away from the pail of water by the very arms that had forced him down in the first place. He coughed until he had regurgitated a good deal of the fluid in his lungs, cursing at the pain. It was then that he finally opened his eyes. He immediately regretted it—this situation was only a minor improvement to drowning._

 _"Ah, Tino. I have been told that you are not cooperating," said the madman , standing in front of him and staring Tino in the eyes , giving off a rather intimidating presence._  
 _Someone tied his arms behind his back with thin but strong and sturdy cord. Silver, Tino realized as he gasped in pain—the ropes were infused with silver. Well, there went his one escape plan. He couldn't very well change into a wolf when he was touching silver._

 _"Whoever told you that is right," he spat, the effect of his anger lessened both by the throbbing of his bound arms and the remaining water trapped in his windpipe. "I won't help you. You can't make me."_

 _"Oh, but Tino. We wouldn't want to hurt you, now would we?"_

 _"Too late for that, you've already almost killed me four times."_

 _His captor seemed not to hear or care, but rather diverted his gaze toward his helper, who was still behind Tino. "Natalya?"_

 _Tino turned his head as much as he could to see his captor's henchman, a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and the bloodthirsty glare of an axe-murderer. It was rather contradictory, but Tino found that he wanted to gaze at her beauty and wet himself at the same time._

 _Well, this scenario had just reached a whole new level of creepy. Again._

 _"Yes, brother?" the woman asked in a sly, mischievous, almost (dare he say it) sexy falsetto, a demonic smile playing at her lips._

 _The man smirked as well, and Tino knew he was screwed—well, more screwed than he'd previously thought. "I believe we have been going a bit too light on our houseguest. Would you kindly show him what pain really feels like?"_

 _Oh, no. Not good. Definitely not good._

 _"I would love to, brother. Would you prefer I use the Chinese Water Torture, or should I get the knives?"_

 _So, his options were either madness or potential death. Brilliant. Tino could feel his heart pounding faster and harder as he began to panic._

 _"Actually, I was thinking a game of Russian Roulette, myself," he answered._

 _Oh, joy. More death._

 _"Well, big brother, it's up to you. We can have him slowly go insane, use his fears against him, or just physically abuse him. All three sound equally enjoyable to me."_

 _Had they no soul? No morals? How could they possibly derive even a morsel of enjoyment from the abuse of an innocent teenager?_

 _Well, if he was going to be tortured, at least it was by the hands of a psychopathic supermodel…. Oh, what was he saying? This was horrible!_

 _"You know, Chinese Water Torture does not sound like a bad idea. Why don't we do that one?"_

 _Tino finally broke into a panic, blurting, "Okay, okay! What do you want from me?"_

 _Then his captor laughed. No reservations, no respect—he just laughed. He walked up close, and leaned down so that his mouth was nearly touching Tino's ear._

 _"I want you," he whispered, "to kill Berwald Oxenstierna."_

* * *

 _ **MISSING!**_  
 _ **Tino Väinämöinen, age 16**_  
 _ **5 feet, 7 inches tall; weighs about 140 pounds**_  
 _ **Blonde hair; hazel eyes**_  
 _ **Last seen August 8, on the corner of 4th and Main Street**_  
 _ **If found, please contact the police, then call at 555-1923**_  
 _ **Thank You**_

 _"How does 't look, Matthias?" Berwald mumbled to the Dane reading over his shoulder._

 _Matthias raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's about as good as it's gonna get, but... is his weight really necessary?"_

 _"Yes, Matthias," Arthur argued. "It helps give one a more accurate image."_

 _"Well, there's already a picture of him on the—wait, there's a fucking picture!" Matthias realized. "Why are we putting all this shit on here anyway?"_

 _"More profess'nal," Berwald argued. "People'll take it more seriously if 't looks profess'nal."_

 _Matthias was not satisfied by that, however. "Yeah, but-"_

 _"Well I think Berwald did a fine job!" Arthur interrupted before a full-on argument broke out, as was typical in these situations. He gestured to the flyer. "Why don't we go spread these around?"_

 _"Too late now. Full moon's t'night," Berwald pointed out with a sigh._

 _"Oh, well, that sucks."_

 _Berwald simply nodded._

 _After a beat of silence, Matthias seemed to remember something. "Oh, Arthur? About that spell I wanted you to cast…"_

 _Arthur looked up at Matthias warily. "I suppose we could do that right now, if you'd like. There's still about an hour and a half before nightfall. But are you sure you want to-?"_

 _"Yes." He stopped smiling for once in his life, his bright blue eyes silently pleading with his friend. "I am."_

 _"Alright. I will warn you though: you're tampering with fate," Arthur replied, albeit melodramatically. "If this doesn't have the desired effect, don't blame me. The spell is rather-"_

 _"Yeah, yeah, I know. High-risk, and you can't control it and stuff. Don't care. Let's do it."_

 _Arthur still looked dubious, but sighed in resignation nonetheless. "Alright, then. Come with me, Matthias. The equipment is at my house."_

 _"Okay." Matthias' smile returned, though it was a touch smaller than before, and his brows still remained furrowed in thought. He turned to Berwald. "I'll be back soon, okay?"_

 _"'Kay," Berwald responded. "See ya."_

 _"See ya!" Matthias was already making his way to the front door._

 _Arthur stayed back. "Good luck finding Tino, Berwald. I hope we can make some progress tomorrow after school."_

 _"After school? Whatcha mean?" Matthias asked._

 _"School starts tomorrow," Arthur informed. "We're officially seniors." He paused for a moment before adding, "Anyway, we have to hurry if you want to make it back, Matthias."_

 _"G'night, Arthur," Berwald said. "See ya t'morrow."_

 _"Good night, Berwald."_

 _And with that, the two boys put their shoes on and set off to Arthur's house._

* * *

 _Twenty minutes later, the two found themselves in Arthur's attic, which was pitch black save for a couple of candles the sorcerer had lit._

 _"So, this is the place?" Matthias turned to Arthur, one eyebrow cocked._

 _Arthur walked over to a dusty bookshelf and began to look through some of the shelves. "Yes, this is the place. Now let me see if I can find the book…ah, here it is! Love spells." He pulled out a large red book and placed it on a table._

 _"You wanted to get rid of your soulmate, right?" Arthur asked._

 _Matthias nodded._

 _"Might I ask why?"_

 _Matthias shrugged. "I don't see why you need to know. It's not really your business, is it?"_

 _The Dane seemed pretty firm in his position, so Arthur relented. He opened the red book and started searching for the proper spell. "Oh, right here," he mused, finally on the correct page. "A Spell to Ward Off One's Soulmate."_

 _"Sweet!" Matthias exclaimed. "Let's do this thing."_

 _Arthur held a hand up to stop him. "Wait just a minute. I want to know the side-effects first. What if this kills your soulmate before you meet them?"_

 _Matthias face fell. "Oh. I guess that wouldn't be good."_

 _"No, it wouldn't. Here, I'll read it aloud."_

 _So he did. It went something like this:_

 _"For each magical creature, there is another one creature that compliments him. Habitually, the matching creature or "soulmate" is destined to meet its counterpart and the two are to fall in love at first sight."_

 _"Arthur, I think I already knew that."_

 _"Shut up! I know!" Arthur shot back._

 _Awkward silence._

 _Arthur cleared his throat. "I suppose I could just skip that part."_

 _He continued:_

 _"This spell will ensure that the subject will not be bound to his or her partner. The two may not meet at all, and if they do, the subject will feel no abnormal connections to his former soulmate."_

 _"That is what you wanted, right?" Arthur asked for the sake of clarification._

 _"Yup, sounds great!"_

 _"Alright, I'll continue..._

 _"Warnings:_

 _1) Human soulmates will never even realize they have a mate and will show no reaction to the spell. The spell cannot be undone for humans."_

 _"So you're saying that nothing happens if they're human," Matthias interjected. "That's good, right?"_

 _"Well yes, but there's only about a fifty-percent chance your mate is human. Anyway..._

 _"2) A number of side-effects may occur in the mate if he or she is magical. These include but are not limited to: irritability, coughing and sneezing for the first few hours after the spell, and the change of one's sex-"_

 _"Change of what?!"_

 _"Change of sex," Arthur repeated. "The explanation says that the mate may change gender to prevent attraction if the subject is only attracted to people of a specific gender."_

 _"Wait, what?" Matthias still didn't completely understand._

 _The sorcerer sighed. "Alright, suppose Berwald were to undergo this spell before he met Tino. Berwald's gay and would only date another guy, so Tino might have turned into a girl. Do you get it now?"_

 _The werewolf winced. "Isn't that a little..."_

 _"Extreme? Yes, but I thought that was what you wanted."_

 _Matthias ran a hand through his hair. "You're right. Keep reading."_

 _"Got it. Where were we? We just finished side-effects, right? Oh, here we are:_

 _"3) If the two mates meet after the spell, the subject will be entirely unaffected. However, if his or her mate is magical, said mate will sense the bond."_

 _"Wait... So if I just so happen to meet this person, they'll fall in love with me? But I won't fall in love with them?"_

 _"If they aren't human. Fifty-fifty chance. And that would only happen if you met them."_

 _Matthias let that settle for a moment before telling Arthur to go on._

 _"4) The bond can only be broken if the subject falls in love with his or her soulmate. All side-effects in the soulmate will disappear only after this happens."_

 _"So the only way to undo this would be for me to fall in love with them," Matthias concluded._

 _"Except you probably won't," Arthur countered, turning the page over to reveal the spell. "Remember?"_

 _"Right."_

 _Arthur read the spell to himself once through before giving Matthias a stern look. "Alright, last chance. Are you absolutely positive you want this?"_

 _Matthias returned the glare full force. This had to be the longest period of time he'd ever been serious. "Yes. Positive."_

 _Arthur smirked. "Very well. Why don't we get started then?"_

 **A/N: Yeee so uhh... I don't know quite how well I pulled this off, so any constructive criticism and other comments would be awesome. I hope this was okay, and I'll update this in another couple weeks (after I finish the last chapter of my fic)!**


	2. Act I: Lucia - Severe Lack of Cleavage

You know what I've always hated? Romance. The fluff, the affection, the sappiness... It sickens me to no end. I honestly don't understand why anyone would enjoy such a frivolous thing, or the useless traditions of marriage and engagement and dating that go along with it. There's really no point.

Who, me? Why am I here? Oh, I'm just the narrator. You know, the one that tells the story...

But that's beside the point. Romance sucks. Did anyone else cheer when Matthias got rid of his soulmate in the first chapter? Truthfully, I would have too, had the circumstances been any different. You see, Matthias pretty much set himself up for success within the first two thousand words of the story – at my expense.

Yes, you guessed it: I'm his soulmate. And seeing I'm a sorceress, I had to go through all those lovely things we just discussed in the previous chapter. I know, lucky me, right? I just rolled my eyes, in case you couldn't tell. It's totally, completely, one hundred percent his fault I got caught up in this mess.

What? No, not the romance. That's hardly the messiest thing about this story. Are you kidding me? Do you not remember the werewolf that got tortured in the last chapter? If you need to, you can read it again. It's right there at the beginning. That's the mess, not that stupid, idealistic notion of... Never mind.

What is it with you guys and romance, anyway? I bet most of you are just reading this for the shipping, aren't you?

God, I bet no one even cheered when Matthias got rid of his soulmate. I bet some of you might have even thought he was in the wrong. I hate you all already.

Anyhow, I have a story to tell, and none of you are going to get in the way.

Unfortunately for me, my story started on the first day of school.

I've always hated the first day of school. I'm not much of a morning person, so when the alarm goes off at six-thirty and I know I can't hit the snooze, it typically puts me in a bad mood. Except, apparently, for this particular day – the day my story started.

It was a bright and sunny morning in late August. Birds were chirping, the town was abuzz, and, for some reason, it smelled like pancakes and coffee. I assumed in my sleepy haze that the pancakes and coffee were probably some sort of good omen for the day or some idiocy like that, and immediately arose from my bed and stretched. At this point I sensed that something was slightly off-kilter. I swore my clothing had been looser when I had gone to bed, and… Perhaps my bra was just a bit too big?

But, as I said before, I'm not much of a morning person, so I really didn't think much of it. Maybe I had grown; maybe I was tripping on acid. Honestly, I didn't care so long as I could have a pancake or two and a cup of coffee.

I half-slid down the stairs out of speed and laziness, and walked nonchalantly into the kitchen, pulling a plate out of the cabinet and putting two pancakes on it, along with some jam. I had already retrieved a knife and fork and sat down at the table before my brother, Emil (the creator of those delicious hotcakes) turned to look at me.

 _Oh, shit_ , I thought to myself. _Why's he staring at me like that?_

I mean, it's sort of normal for Emil to stare, but when he drops a glass mixing bowl, sending shards everywhere, and he still fails to drop his shocked, wide-eyed gaze, that's probably a bad sign.

"What?" I asked, and immediately put my hand to my throat in surprise, realizing something was very, very wrong. My voice was lower, almost... masculine. I gingerly placed a hand where my boobs should have been, but it was completely flat. My eyes now wide as Emil's, I cursed and ran to the bathroom for a better look.

Nope. No way. Not happening. I was totally not a dude.

Thinking I must have been hallucinating, I took off my shirt and bra. I pressed my hands to my chest again just to make sure. Then I did it one more time, in case I had been mistaken. It did no good: I was a man.

Not. Okay.

By this point, my brother had regained some bravado, and he quickly followed me. "Lucia! What the hell did you do this time?"

Finally looking into the mirror, I could see the full effect of it. I was about four inches taller, and my shoulders had grown broader. My face, which had looked impassive in its feminine form, now seemed sterner, almost glaring, and my jawline was more angular and defined. My hair was the only constant, still tumbling down to my mid-back. It had to be the most peculiar thing I had ever seen.

"Emil, I have absolutely no idea what caused this." Unfortunately, I actually did have to specify that. I had caused a plethora of magic-related incidents in the past, and Emil couldn't have been too shocked that I had caused another.

"Really?" he asked doubtfully. "Are you sure you didn't just screw up a spell or something?"

I finally averted my gaze from the mirror. "Yes, I'm sure. I didn't cast any spells this past week specifically to prevent that from happening, especially after last time."

Emil visibly grimaced at the thought of last time, and he finally let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, fine. But what are we going to do about it? Can't you magic up some reversal spell?"

"First I'd need to know which spell caused this."

"Well, there can't be that many spells that change people's gender!"

How wrong he was. "Emil, I can think of four or five off the top of my head. I'm going to have to go to an expert..." I paused in thought, and then let out a groan as I added, "Which means I have to talk to 'll probably break the spell after class, and then I'll never have to see his face again." Arthur and I weren't exactly on good terms at the moment, but he was much more experienced with the whole magic thing than I was. While I had only known about my abilities for three years, he had been practicing sorcery since kindergarten, and would probably be able to discern which spell had caused my curse.

"Um, Lucia..." Emil said in a dubious tone that seemed to suggest I had missed something. "You can't really go to school like that and expect people not to notice, can you?"

Oh. That was right. "I guess I can't."

"So... What are we going to do?" he asked again.

I thought for a moment. "Well, I suppose we could mess with the school system a bit. I'm sure we can find some way to change my information to look like a boy's, and then we can pretend I'm a new student."

"What spell does that?" Emil wondered, in awe at my amazing skills.

"We call it hacking. You know computers well enough to do that, right?" What Emil lacked in the supernatural abilities department, he made for with his near-prodigious computer skills. Hacking student data was child's play for him.

He blushed, and averted his gaze, embarrassed by his naïveté. "Oh. Yeah, I can do that. It'd be cooler if you magicked up some solution, though."

"But it'd be more practical and efficient if you to just got into the school's data and tweaked my records."

"Fair enough. Get me a computer."

"Alright. Oh, do you have an extra uniform? I don't think I'm allowed to wear the girls' one."

"It should be in my room."

"Got it. Computer's on my desk."

And with that, the pancakes and coffee were forgotten as we set off to accomplish our new mission.

* * *

I might've felt bad for pushing this all on my brother, but this really wasn't the worst Emil had seen. Both of us had been subject to myriad spells in the past (not to mention the dragon incident last year).

Difference was, while I had known exactly what had gone awry with all those spells, this new curse was a mystery. I had no idea what had caused this, though I did have my suspicions...

So I though as I put on Emil's spare uniform, struggling a bit with the tie; I had only worn those once or twice before then.

I turned to the mirror.

Perfect. Typical schoolboy. Except...

"Oh, that's right. My hair." I searched high and low in my somewhat disorganized room for a decent pair of scissors.

Okay, pause for a minute. Anyone ever just chop off eighteen inches of hair in one sitting before?

Lemme tell you, it's painful. The sentiment, the effort I put into growing it out…

Anyway, it took me a minute to psych myself up before I could make the first cut. I had tied my hair back and cut at the band so as to make it look somewhat even. Needless to say, it looked really lame. The front was longer than the back, and no matter how many times I tucked it behind my ears, a strand would pop out and block my vision.

I let out a sigh. Great, my hair was ruined forever. Well, at least there seemed to be enough in that ponytail to donate. Then I caught sight of a hair clip on my dresser. Sure, it was a little girly, and might draw attention at school, but it was functional. Parting my hair to one side for the sake of fashion, I pinned it back with the clip. It was perfect. Actually, it looked sort of cool now.

Okay, that was done. Now, onto my second order of business: call the only person who could have put this spell on me. I took out my phone and dialed Arthur's number.

He waited three or four rings before picking up. "Look, Lucia, for the last time-!"

"Shut up before I send a troll after you," I interrupted, not having the time or patience for one of his rants.

"And who are you?" he shot back in suspicion. "Lucia's new boyfriend? So, she finally got over me…"

Oh yeah, my voice had changed. That was right. "No, it's Lucia," I said, "and of course I'm over you. You're an imbecile."

"Really? Why do you sound like a man?" There was a slight catch in his voice, and I could imagine him staring at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck.

He was lying.

"I was hoping you would tell me."

A long pause, then an exasperated sigh. "Look, it's too difficult to explain over the phone. Why don't you come to Magic Club after school? I can tell you then and we can find a way out of this."

"So you do know," I accused. "What spell did you use?"

Arthur groaned. "You're going to kill me for this..."

"I don't think you could possibly make me angrier." Arthur had already cheated on me and then dumped me once he solved his supposed personal moral conundrums, in addition to this mess. I couldn't fathom any way for him to stoop lower.

"Fine, have it your way." The venom in his voice would have made most people shiver. Unfortunately for him, I was an exception to that rule, so his intimidation tactics were largely ineffective. "A friend of mine wanted a favor-"

"That involved turning me into a boy?"

"Shut up!" he yelled. "That was an accident. I had no idea it was you!"

"What do you mean?" I demanded. "How could you not know you were cursing me?"

"I was trying to ward off someone's soulmate," Arthur finally explained. "And his soulmate just happens to be you."

"What?!" My precious apathetic façade shattered completely.

"See? My life is over. You're going to send a troll or something after me, and-"

"Who is it?" I asked, my typical stoicism returning now that I was over the initial shock.

"What?"

"Who is my soulmate?" I asked again, this time with a bit less patience.

Arthur sighed. "His name is Matthias Andersen."

There was a beat of silence.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," I responded, some anger returning to my voice. I knew that name, and I didn't like it. So the legendary Matthias Andersen, typical high school jock, was somehow magical? What would he even be, a zombie?

From what I'd heard, he was certainly brain dead enough.

"Why do you care?" he asked. "You haven't met him-"

"No, but I've heard enough to know he's a jerk."

"Okay, that much I'll give you," Arthur relented. "Look, I've got to go to school. Why don't we discuss this later?"

"Fine," I practically growled, which sounded much more deep and intimidating with a man's voice. Before, it just sounded shrill and obnoxious in my opinion.

Improvements.

"I guess I'll see you in Magic Club," I added. "But you better not bring that idiot-"

"She's not an idiot, for the last time!" Arthur retorted. "Her name's Allie, and perhaps you should give her a chance. She's actually rather nice. I think you'd like her, if you got to know her."

Allison Jones was Arthur's significant other, and I honestly had no real right to hate her. I was his girlfriend, but Allie was his soulmate; of course he picked her. But that didn't mean I wasn't mad at them.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. I'll see you after class, without your girlfriend. Bye."

And with that, I hung up.

* * *

Magic Club was in a secluded corner of the school, in a room that had not been used for years. The lights were turned off and the windows covered, the room lit by numerous candles that probably broke the school rules regarding flammable objects, not that anyone in the magic club really cared about the school rules. An assortment of old spell-books sat on the otherwise unused desks, which were not particularly organized and seemed to have been pushed to one side of the room. The only person to be seen was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, prominent brows furrowed as he read the book sitting in his lap.

"Wow," I said, entering the room. "Everything's exactly the same as I remembered. Except... Where's Vladimir?"

Arthur turned his attention from the book to me as I walked toward him. "Vlad had some, ah, unfinished business to attend to in a sketchy alleyway."

Well, where else are vampires supposed to go for dinner?

"I see," I replied dismissively, distracted by the way Arthur stared me up and down. Then, as if it wasn't obvious, I added, "And what are _you_ looking at?"

"Sorry." Arthur quickly averted his gaze. "It's just a bit shocking is all."

"Look, I don't want to waste your time, so would you just tell me how to break this spell..."

A pause. "Oh, well, um... you see..." was all he could stutter out before he bit his lip.

"Oh, God. What is it?" I could tell this so-called cure was going to be unfeasible from his abashed blush and the regret in his eyes. I mean, I'm pretty scary, but not that scary. Why else would he have been so ashamed to say the solution?

Arthur gestured me to where he was sitting. "Just read this."

I took the nonverbal queue, sitting down beside him. He handed me the book, and I began to read the spell. As I pored over the pages, my temper grew more and more inflamed. What kind of idiot sorcerer would create an anti-soulmate spell that changed people's genders? What kind of reckless fool would be stupid enough to undergo such a spell?

Apparently my soulmate and my ex-boyfriend. Brilliant.

"That's it," I concluded. "You're dead."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I had no idea you were his soulmate."

Well, he did have a point. I would never have suspected that Matthias was my match. In fact, I didn't even know he wasn't human. "I guess you're right, but what am I supposed to do now?" I asked. "I can't return to normal without meeting him, and I can't meet him without falling in love."

"And what's so terrible about falling in love?!" Arthur blurted, fists clenched in anger.

I just stared at him, knowing full well that Arthur was referring both to my current dilemma and our breakup. Honestly, I didn't know what to say. Though I did take issue with falling in love, Arthur was trying his best, and it wasn't like either of these scenarios were his fault. In the one case, there was no way to control one's soulmate without magic, and neither of us had thought to use any spells when we were going out. In the other instance, it sounded like Matthias had been pretty insistent when he'd asked Arthur to cast this spell.

Nevertheless, I glared, expecting... something – perhaps some sympathy, or one of Arthur's loopholes. Actually, a loophole would have been perfect right then.

"Okay, that was stupid question," Arthur admitted with a grimace. "I realize you're still getting over, well, you know... But this is different, alright?"

I snorted. Different how, exactly? "No, it's not. Did you not read the spell?" I replied, agitated. I had lost my patience, and was now entirely ready to speak my mind on the matter. "You've doomed me to unrequited love. Again. Way to go, you managed to break my heart twice." Which was an accomplishment, seeing as we weren't even dating anymore.

"Matthias is the one who requested it!" Arthur argued defensively. "I tried to warn him, but he wouldn't hear it-!"

"Because he's an idiot," Lucia interrupted bitterly. "And I'm destined to fall in love with an idiot, because Fate hates me." I let that melodramatic statement hang in the air for a moment, and then decided, "Obviously I need to meet him, if I ever want to go back to normal."

"Are you sure about that?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you ask?" The idea seemed reasonable enough.

That's when Arthur pointed out, "Well, I'm fairly certain he's straight. In fact, we just proved that he's straight."

"I guess I'll just have to fix that then, won't I?" I stated as if there were no issue there. "Come on, I'm borrowing some of your clothes, then we're going to meet this imbecile."

 **A/N: Okay, I'm back! Again, Arthur _does_ seem a bit immoral in this chapter, but realize that we're seeing this entirely through Lu's eyes, and she's a bit biased. And if you're wondering about Lucia's pronouns, she's not picky and will let anyone use what they will, but uses she/her to refer to herself. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, and I'll see you in a bit with the next chapter!**


	3. Unrequited Love at First Sight

**A/N: Just as a note (because I was too stupid to point it out the last couple rounds), Lucia is Norway, Allie is America, and Chiara will be Romano. That... I hope I made that clear enough, but in case that was confusing, here's the info.**

Arthur did manage to reason with me. He explained that he had been planning on going to Mat's house that day anyhow, and that a simple phone call at the very least would be polite.

In my defense, getting rid of your soulmate is somewhat less cordial than going to a stranger's house unannounced.

Nonetheless, I agreed, and half an hour later we were on his doorstep. It was a quaint little house that seemed a bit small but was very well-kept. The cottage itself looked rather old, the wood clearly aged and beginning to wear in some places, but whoever did the exterior upkeep and yard work was clearly incredibly skilled and had great taste, evident in the neat paint job, perfectly-kept garden, and the tasteful patio table and chairs on the porch.

Arthur primly knocked on the door, which was warped but had a fresh coat of blue paint and a polished gold doorknob that made it look more fresh and clean. I might've observed the workmanship further, but the door opened, and the most handsome man on the planet was standing there on the other side.

Have you ever had an anvil dropped on your head? And perhaps subsequently had a spider crawl up your now-shattered spine?

That's kind of what meeting your soulmate is like. I'm exaggerating, of course, but the effect is the same—it's unexpected, impossible to ignore, it comes when it's least expected, and nothing will ever prepare you for it.

Kinda sucky, right?

The first thing I noticed when Matthias opened the door was that I couldn't breathe. The next was that I couldn't speak. This was a bit concerning, seeing as I was supposed to be calmly introducing myself, and I didn't want to look like a fool in front of Matthias.

Matthias, the drop-dead gorgeous boy who'd just answered the door, with stupid hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a smirk that seemed both sweet and devilish. I thought I was going to pass out... Oh my God, was this guy cute.

Then realization struck. Of fucking course he was hot, he was my soulmate. Hotness was an irrefutable conclusion.

 _Be strong, Lucia,_ I chided, reminding myself that this was the same douche-bag that had ruined my life just because he didn't want to deal with me.

Oh, wasn't he lovely? What a lovely, imbecilic dickwad. I kind of wanted to kiss the bastard.

I had to force myself not to look below his face. Who knew what'd happen if I so much as glanced at the rest of his likely-beautiful body?

God, what was I doing with my life? I really had to pull myself together, lest this spiral into a terrible disaster.

"Hey, guys, c'mon in!" Matthias greeted in a cheerful voice just loud enough to be slightly obnoxious. We followed him into the living room, where another boy sat staring out the window.

Arthur had announced we were coming beforehand and he'd even found a decent excuse for me to be here. Apparently, Matthias and his brother, Berwald, were in some sort of trouble and I was supposed to help them.

Honestly, I didn't care if I had to deal with another dragon so long as I could get on with my life.

"So," he began, turning to me, "what's your name?"

That much was simple enough. "I'm Luuu..." Shit, never mind, it wasn't. Lucia was typically a girls' name. Right. So, what the hell was my name? "...kas. Lukas Jensen."

Oh. That was it. Emil and I had been through that this morning, hadn't we?

Either the epitome of hotness was too dense to notice my hesitation, or he didn't want to call me out on it. Rather, he shook my hand (which certainly didn't send shivers down my spine), and replied, "Nice to meet ya, Lukas! I'm Matthias Andersen, that idiot from the football team."

What an imbecilic way to introduce oneself. I loved it.

I examined my fingernails, feigning disinterest. "I'm aware."

"You a fan?" he asked with an idiotic grin.

"God, no." At least that wasn't a lie—football was pretty damn boring. "I'm more of a hockey fan, myself."

"Oh, you'll love Berwald and Ti-" But then he stopped himself with a wince, as if the mention of that name was somehow painful.

Ex-boyfriend? Dead boyfriend? Oh, that's right, he was straight.

Straight people suck.

"Er, you'll love Berwald, then," he corrected, motioning to the blond guy, who had yet to say a word. "He's been on the hockey team since grade school."

Upon closer observation, I realized that I recognized his deep blue eyes and wavy blond hair... Though, I was more used to seeing him with in his hockey gear. "Oxenstierna?"

He turned to me and nodded, which was presently the only proof I had that he was indeed alive.

"Nice. I've seen you play, you're decent," I remarked, which about as close to a compliment as you'll hear from me. "You two are related?"

Arthur had debriefed me beforehand, but I could feign naïveté for the sake of small talk. That, and I was slightly curious as to why they had different last names.

"Yup," Matthias said proudly, ruffling Berwald's hair. "We're brothers."

Berwald didn't look so pleased. "Half-brothers."

That explained the last names.

"Fine, fine." He rolled his eyes. "Half-brothers. I'm really more interesting than Waldo over there, though."

"I'm sure," I replied shortly, though I didn't disbelieve him. But we had strayed far from the matter at hand. "Arthur said you needed help?"

"Oh, yeah, actually! Um..." He paused from a moment, and I could just imagine the little figurative hamster wheel in his brain spinning and spinning, trying to come up with something intelligent to say. Finally, he gave up. "I'm not very good with explanations like this. Ber, you wanna explain?"

Berwald shrugged. "Sure. One 'f our pack, Tino, was kidnapped a couple weeks back. We don' have that much evidence yet, b't Arthur says t'looks like magic."

"Is that so?" I asked for the sake of clarity, turning to Arthur for confirmation.

"Yes, it's true. Evidence points to the casting of both a sedative spell and a cloaking curse to effectively take Tino hostage and keep him from being found."

Ooh, okay, I had to admit, I was actually genuinely interested in this one. A hostage werewolf? Involving the casting of really advanced cloaking curses? Sign me the fuck up.

"Have you found any good reason for someone to do this? People don't just take captives for no reason, especially not if they're bothering to use magic." Then, a kinda creepy thought came to mind. "Do you think it's another crazy witch hunter?"

Arthur shook his head, eyebrows furrowed into that cute little thoughtful scowl he made when he was trying to be logical. "No, the magic is too practiced and precise. This is clearly the work of a skilled sorcerer gone bad... Or mad."

This was just getting messier with every added detail, and I loved it. I turned to Berwald, "do we know anything else about this sorcerer? Do your pack member have any enemies? Perhaps magical ones?"

"No!" Berwald actually raised his voice, which seemed unusual given his quiet demeanor. He almost seemed defensive of this hostage's inability to have enemies, which seemed strange, given the current situation.

"Not that we know of," Arthur clarified, ever the realist. "Tino's a very likable person and I'm pretty sure he's never hurt anyone in his life."

"Then we'll have to dig a little deeper," I decided, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "The undermining of cloaking curses would probably require an expert sorcerer. Until then, we should keep both of you under protection. Right, Arthur?"

"I agree. There's no way we'll be able to manage this otherwise."

"Oh, okay..." Matthias trailed off, smile sinking into a look of (was it possible?) sobriety. "Uh, out of curiosity, when would those professionals get here?"

"Well, we have to contact them, find out when they'll be free, then allow a certain period for them to work out travel arrangements." I quickly added up time needed, then added, "I'd say about three to five weeks, two months tops."

"Two months?" Berwald asked, thoroughly shocked and appalled.

Matthias had a similar attitude. "This is a pretty urgent mission we've got here. We can't wait that long."

"Until they get here, we can put you under a protection spell, and we do have ways to make sure that Tino's not dead yet," I reassured them, sensing their panic and impatience.

"Yeah, but there's no way Ber's gonna be able to live without Tino for two months," Mat sassed back as if that was a widely accepted truth.

What the hell did Berwald's health have to do with this?

"What do you mean?" I demanded, shaking my head in confusion. "Why would his life be in danger?"

Berwald averted his gaze, the glare from outside reflecting off his glasses and obstructing my view of his eyes. "We're soulmates," he told the window.

Oh. That… explained quite a lot, actually.

His brother butt in before it turned into a sob-fest, "he's already been missing for two weeks, and they're not even supposed to be apart for more than twelve hours at once; he's in a rough spot. Is there any way you could work faster?"

Berwald looked like he wanted to speak out against what Mat had said, but he thought better of himself.

I let out a sigh, "I'm sorry, but-"

"Actually," Arthur interrupted, eyes gleaming and a determined smile tugging at his lips. Ah, yes, good—it was his 'I've got an amazing idea aren't I the coolest shit' look. "There could be someone we can get. Ever heard of the Tomato Fairies?"

So, never mind. He wasn't the coolest shit.

"What?" I asked, because honestly, tomato fairies? What?

Were we gonna take down the sorcerer with an enchanted bottle of ketchup?

"What?" Mat asked, equally dubious.

"What?" Berwald repeated, probably because he was spacing.

Either way, that was three strikes. Arthur was out. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Arthur stated as if that wasn't deadly obvious. "They're not actually tomato fairies."

Well, there goes my brilliant enchanted ketchup idea.

"They're a small group of professional sorcerers that live across the state," he continued, "and they're easily within driving distance. I could probably get Antonio and Chiara to come—Antonio's a potions master, and Chiara can predict the future. We could have them over here within the week if they agreed."

Matthias thought it over for a minute, eyebrows furrowing into an cute and involuntary pout. Finally, he nodded. "That's a bit better. You okay with that, Berwald?"

"'F they can get Tino back alive and unharmed, 'm okay," he replied, still not seeming entirely there.

"Alright, good," Mat said. "Count me in, too."

"I'm amenable," I added because my opinion was definitely the most important in the room.

Then Arthur's 'I've got an amazing idea aren't I the coolest shit' expression morphed into a triumphant 'I told you I'm the coolest shit, bro I'm awesome' expression, and finally he asserted, "great, I'll call Antonio tonight."

Everything was a contest for him, I swear to God.

I decided to carry on. "Alright, now that that's settled: we've got to a plan for right now. I can use some protection spells to keep the kidnapper from getting to either of you, and we can try our best to find other useful spells as well. I guess we don't need one to make sure Tino's alive, since you can already tell, Berwald."

"Right," Berwald confirmed.

Wait, I didn't tell you that earlier, did I?

Yeah, that's a thing. People can sense how healthy their soulmates are—or whether they're alive at all—no matter how far away they are. Fun fact. Okay, moving on.

"Although you should really have something to tide the effects of being separated for so long," I added, noting how low he already seemed. "There's only a certain amount anyone can take. Would you be okay with me putting a temporary spell over you, even if it might dull your connection for a while?"

Never had I heard him reply so quickly and with such distress (not that I'd spoken with him much to begin with). "Not yet."

"Fair enough," I concluded. "I think that should be all for now then."

"Alright, sounds good!" Matthias declared, still smiling stupidly. "I guess we'll see you around, Lukas!"

My heart raced. He was gonna see me around. Amazing.

Oh, right. I was planning a rescue mission with him. He had to see me around.

"Yeah, uh, I guess so," I stuttered out, hoping my face wasn't red enough to draw suspicion.

Fortunately, Matthias looked clueless as ever, but Arthur met my eyes with a knowing glare. "Oh, Lukas?" he asked coyly. "I need to meet with you. Why don't we go to my house?"

"What?" I asked, still kinda dazed.

"I said," he enunciated, "that we need to meet at my house."

Oh. That made sense.

"Ah, okay. I guess we should probably go, then." Yes, before I embarrass myself further. I stood up from my spot on the sofa.

Arthur followed suit. "Yes, we should." He turned his attention to Matthias, "we can come over again tomorrow, right Mat? Same time?"

Matthias rested an affectionate hand on his shoulder and replied, "Of course."

Good, we were in the clear. We could leave before I did something stupid.

I had jinxed it, of course. Just as we were about to close the door behind us, Matthias called to me, running over to meet me on the porch.

"Hey, Lukas?"

"Uh-huh?" I said dumbly.

"I'd love to get to know you better," he said as I tried not to melt on the spot. "Wanna hang out after school tomorrow?"

"That sounds alright," I mumbled before I could think better of it. "I'll see you after class."

"Sweet! See ya, Lukas!"

And had Matthias not gone back inside at that moment I might have finally passed out.

Good God, this soulmate shit was worse than I'd thought.

Back at the Kirkland's house, I took a sip of steaming hot mint tea, trying to gauge the meaning in Arthur's glare. He was frowning, hands propping up his head at the chin, and his scowl was aimed directly at me.

Inquisitive—that was the look! Arthur was feeling inquisitive, probably sort of confused, and slightly frustrated. Don't ask me why I'm so good at reading him. I'm not quite sure myself... Maybe he's just easy to read, or maybe it's an ex-girlfriend thing.

Who knows?

But I digress; Arthur was staring at me inquisitively... And, now that I thought about it, he was actually growing increasingly frustrated. Because of me, apparently.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I finally asked, because I too was feeling inquisitive and increasingly frustrated (not that I had these emotions displayed on my face for the world to see like on Arthur's).

He seemed to snap out of whatever internal monologue I'd just interrupted, though he continued to look, well, inquisitive and slightly frustrated as he replied, "you haven't experienced any sort of dysphoria yet?"

"Huh?" Did he really just reply to my question with another question?

Wait: inquisitive. Frustrated. Right. He was supposed to be asking questions; that's what was on his mind.

Arthur, however, took my momentary confusion as a lack of comprehension (which was fair, I suppose), and explained further. "You know, feelings like you're in the wrong body or you want to go back to being a girl or whatever?"

I shrugged, because the answer should have been obvious... Right? What exactly did he mean by that? "Well, I can't really get on with my life until-"

"That doesn't answer my question," Arthur interrupted, despite the fact that technically, he had never answered mine.

"Well," I remarked, continuing to stare at his eyes—his bright green, inquisitive, and slightly frustrated eyes, "what are you trying to ask, exactly?"

Fine, so perhaps I hadn't listened very closely to his first question. That was okay. Arthur would just have to repeat himself.

So he did: "I was asking if you've experienced any sort of dysphoria since the change."

"No. I..." I trailed off. I hadn't even thought of it yet, but now that I did, well... "I dunno, I really couldn't even tell that I was in a different body until Emil saw me."

Arthur was unsatisfied, further prompting, "and then?"

Still more than a bit perplexed and unsure, I shrugged again. "I freaked out at first, but... Honestly, I've never really been too concerned about gender. I haven't even really thought about whether or not I still consider myself a girl right now."

"How interesting," Arthur said, continuing to furrow his thick, ugly eyebrows as he sipped his own tea.

I wondered if I get him some wax.

"For what reason?" I asked, in search of a valid explanation, "you say that like that's not usually the case."

He put on his deadpan, boring lecturer face. "That's because it isn't. You can't just swap someone's genitals and expect everything to go smoothly—the only reason such spells ever worked in the first place was because it was societally unacceptable to be transgender back in the Middle Ages, which forced people into concealment. But, in every case I've seen in my lifetime (and I'm guessing it's been this way since these spells were created, despite what the records say), it's always resulted in serious dysphoria and it really doesn't work so well."

See, he could have just said that to begin with and tell me why he was so inquisitive and slightly bothered. But, no, he'd decided to keep the informative part for last.

Pssh, men.

Hold on a minute. Could I still make fun of men if I was a man?

Actually, if anything, being a man probably just validated my comment further. Y'know, like how apparently only girls can complain about girl stuff.

"Oh. Well, I guess I'm just not picky then," I asserted, seeing no reason why I shouldn't feel like a man at this particular point in time.

I didn't feel girly at the moment, so I was just gonna roll with it.

"I suppose that's fair," he said with an air of finality, though I could tell he wasn't satiated yet. He didn't push the matter; rather, he put on his best Sherlock face as he tried to read my obviously stoic expression.

This was one of the few areas where I had an advantage over my ex—sure, he could out-magic me in his sleep (twelve years of experience does that to people), and he was certainly very witty, but he couldn't read me easily and had trouble discerning how I felt.

It also made him seem like a terrible boyfriend sometimes, but that was no fault of his own. We were both vicious, cold people and we worked as well together as liquid nitrogen and a machine gun—that is to say, we didn't. We sure had a lot of fun destroying shit together, though. It didn't take long for me to realize how much happier he was with Allie, green with envy as I was.

Who could possibly have fit together with me as well as Allie and Arthur? No one could read me, no one knew how to show me sympathy, the few people who cared about me had trouble finding ways to show me that much. Even Emil, who was about as close to understanding me as anyone could get, had difficulty discerning my mood.

Matthias didn't really seem up to task, as hot as he was. He was a total space and at least enough of a jerk that he was willing to risk my well being just to keep me away from him.

How was he The One?

Why me?

"God, what's even gonna happen now that I've found him?" I asked as I stared off into the distance.

Okay, so I just said that out loud. Brilliant.

Arthur seemed taken off guard by the sudden question, but quickly regained his composure, taking another ever-so-casual sip of tea. "Like Matthias actually said earlier, you can't be away from him for more than a few hours without exhibiting some sort of emotional reaction—even less time if you don't spend very long with him to begin with."

"So what you're saying," I replied, trying to sound bored, "is that I'm screwed?"

"What I'm saying," Arthur iterated pointedly, "is that you're a young, inexperienced sorceress who just met her match, and rather than being able to bask in that glorious honeymoon period right after two soulmates meet, you're stuck dealing with unrequited love."

Yeah, okay, great. Thanks for spelling that out. "Which means?" I asked, anticipating his imminent response.

He floundered for a moment, trying to find an adequate way to sugarcoat things (right, like I wanted things sugarcoated), but, unable to find one, he let out a sigh. "Yes, you're screwed."

I rolled my eyes. "Shocker."

"I did try to warn you," he said unhelpfully.

Thanks, Arthur. Way to do absolutely nothing to aid the situation, while just further proving that you're a douche-bag. Without you, who would point out every single one of my failings?

"Okay, great," I replied before deciding it was time to move things along. "So, what else does this soulmate thing entail?"

Arthur took the bait, narrowing his eyes conceitedly as he shot me a smirk. "You know that feeling when you lay your eyes on him and everything gets all fluttery and your heart melts and your head feels fuzzy?"

"Uh-huh," I muttered, unimpressed.

"That doesn't go away," he clarified before hiding his smirk behind his cup of tea, indulging himself with his hot, dainty beverages while I tried to completely comprehend what he'd just said.

So I would never be able to focus around Mat? Brilliant. I briefly wondered how long it would take for me to completely humiliate myself in front of my new favorite asshole. "Really? That sounds impractical."

"Fine, the feeling mellows out," he amended, allowing me to relax a touch, "but only once you're in their vicinity extensively enough that you get used to it."

Again with the being around my Matthias... God, it was almost like we were two beings that were never meant to be separated.

Oh, right. Soulmates.

"Perfect," I drawled, trying to infuse my tone with as much bitter, impatient sarcasm as I could muster. But, I was still as relentlessly practical as I always was, so what I really craved was a solution to such an unfortunate incident, rather than some stupid form of solace. "So how much time do I need to spend with him? Is he gonna think I'm creepy?"

He was silent for a moment, likely searching the depths of his brain for some textbook answer, but in the end he found none. Typical. "Nobody really tests the lower limits of how little time one could spend with their match. It's not really something people typically want to test."

"Makes sense," I said, because it did. Once someone found a person— _the_ person—that made them happy, why would they want to throw that away? Even knowing that such a person existed would be enough for most to want to find their perfect little happy ending with their soulmate.

I supposed that Matthias and I were similar in that respect: neither of us could possibly have been terribly romantic, I being as logical and wise as I clearly was, and Mat being willing to make his soulmate suffer just so he didn't have to bother with this whole affair.

In that moment, I almost felt that I understood how he felt.

Almost.

I still required a game plan, if this was ever to work out. "How much time do you spend with Allie in a given day?"

"Less, lately, what with this whole ordeal," Arthur answered. I could see the sudden wave of melancholy wash over him, but he quickly plastered a highly forced look that seemed scarily close to a resting bitch face atop it so as to draw away suspicion. "Probably eight or nine hours a day, including school. We still haven't quite sold Allie's parents on the whole spending the night idea, but we haven't had any trouble with mood swings and such as of yet."

"I don't have any classes with him though," I mused. Was this even a conceivable goal? Could I possibly keep this up without making Matthias suspicious?

"Lunch?" Arthur suggested.

"Fair. So that's an hour..." I calculated the estimated required time in my head. "I'd have to to see him for like seven hours after class to meet your quota. That's insane."

"It seems that way," he began before taking a final sip of tea and setting his empty cup and saucer down on the coffee table. "I've actually got a theory that might save you."

Had he really had a theory this whole time that he'd been waiting to share until this particular moment?

God, now _I_ was inquisitive and frustrated, "okay, and what is this theory?"

"Look, I've introduced Matthias to plenty of people before," he began, wagging his finger and scowling determinedly in his classic rant style. "For Christ's sake, he met a siren, and you know how alluring those are, but you're the first person he's asked to get to know outside of a mission."

"Really?" And as much capacity as his quirks had to bother me, I was certainly thankful for his sleuthing skills right at this point in time, as well as his apparent friendship with my soulmate.

Wait, he'd brought a siren to town, and hadn't shown me?

Disappointing.

Arthur seemed to notice my introspection, and continued elaborating. "Don't get so worked up, just hear me out for now. While he obviously didn't show any sort of romantic attraction towards you, he _did_ seem to notice that you were different somehow."

Oh, this was actually interesting. "And you think this means that…"

"I think this means that he couldn't get rid of the connection completely," he finished with the dastardly smirk of a mad scientist (which, now that I thought of it, wasn't so far off the mark). "The bond is definitely weaker, but it's still there. He'll probably feel drawn to you as well, if you try to spend time with him."

"Got it," I said with a tone of finality. Now that there was a concrete hypothesis with which I could experiment, I was actually somewhat excited to fabricate a complete plan in private. "I guess we'll have to test that theory tomorrow. Have you found any reversal spells yet?"

"No. I think we'll have to wait for Antonio for that one."

And now that he mentioned one of the professional sorcerers again, I realized his ulterior motive in calling on such people: he honestly wanted to solve this mess.

I would have to thank him later.

"When do you think they'll be here?" I asked.

"Soon enough," he replied. "If they were going to take too long, I wouldn't have considered them."

"Do you think Tino has a chance?"

At this, he looked at me with mirth in his green eyes. "Tino? You mean the strongest, feistiest member of the Andersen pack? Tino the Sniper? If he _didn't_ , I would be surprised."

This evil sorcerer had really caught a whopper, hadn't he? "We'll see."

He nodded, expression darkening as he realized the overwhelming murkiness in this fiasco. "I suppose we will."

 **A/N: And finally we see some hints of DenNor... We'll see how that goes. Thanks for the reviews/follows/faves, and I'll see you all next chapter!**


	4. Calling in the Professionals

**A/N: He's only mentioned in this chapter (though he'll be making an appearance later), but Jan Mulder is gonna be Netherland's human name. Jan because typical fandom name. Mulder because it's a common Dutch name and because I am X-Files trash. He's a vampire hunter, and he'll be a bit more important in the next act of this.**

Overall, I considered today a success. Sure, it'd had a rough start, but I'd figured out what the hell was going on with this curse, gone to a mediocre, but bearable first day of classes, planned a rescue mission for a dognapped werewolf, and for some reason, Emil had actually made dinner.

No, like, for real. Legit dinner. Home-cooked. With a tossed salad and fried fish and everything. For reference, the last time I'd left Emil home alone for the night, he'd ended up eating an entire jar of Nutella and nothing else. How he had managed to stomach that remained beyond my comprehension, but I supposed that that was just how teenaged boys functioned.

I sat down silently, still not sure whether or not I was dreaming. My lazy little brother had just made me dinner? Perhaps magic was real after all.

"'Sup, Lu?" Emil greeted shortly, but not unpleasantly, sitting down in front of his own dish and placing a pitcher of—ooh, was that homemade lemonade?—on the table.

I shrugged. "Not much. What's the occasion?"

"Huh?"

Rolling my eyes at his confusion, I gestured toward the fresh hot tilapia and rice on my plate.

His eyes lit up in realization. "Oh, the food? Nothing special, just felt like it."

"Yeah right," I retorted, making a show of rolling my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest. "What did you break this time?"

A valid question. Emil, who was in the midst of his growth spurt, was about as accident-prone as fifteen year-old boys came. Sure, it could he endearing and sort of funny when he tripped on his own feet trying to walk down the hallway, but bigger things (such as the series of events that had led to the infamous dragon incident) tended to be more obnoxious and inconvenient than anything else.

"Nothing's broken," he promised, unnaturally calm. "Like I said, Lu, I just felt like it."

Disbelieving, I shot him my death glare.

Finally, he broke. "Fine, fine! It's an assignment for my home economics class, okay?"

"On the first day of school?" I asked, still highly dubious. "Impossible."

Emil begged to differ. "You remember Ms. Devereaux?"

Suddenly, everything made sense. My head supplied images of a well-to-do old busybody with dismal gray hair, a stern, judgemental leer, and the large and ugly nose of, well, a witch.

I mean no offense to witches of course, being one myself, nor do I seek to insult those with larger noses, but let's be real, Ms. Devereaux would make a great Wicked Witch of the West. I'd never been so unfortunate as to be subject to her cruelty before, but Arthur had told me all about her.

Then again, Arthur could cook about as well as a hippopotamus on crack (that is to say, he couldn't), so it wasn't very surprising that a home economics teacher wouldn't appreciate him, even if he did make up for it with his sewing and crocheting abilities.

Either way, Emil was just trying to get a decent grade on his project. "I stand corrected. My condolences."

"Just eat your fish," he reprimanded, vexedly spearing a piece of iceberg lettuce.

I grabbed the carafe of lemonade and filled my glass, then gave him an amused smirk. "Yes, sir."

No one spoke for a minute or two as we ate, then, seeking to make this ordeal slightly less awkward, Emil broke the silence. "So, what all happened today? The whole gender change thing had to be interesting."

"Oh, nothing much," I replied casually, "just met my soulmate is all."

Unexpectedly, Emil actually dropped his fork and gaped in surprise.

Actually, I guess it shouldn't have been very unexpected at all, since it was, y'know, my soulmate, and this was my melodramatic brother, but I still hadn't expected such a hilarious reaction from him.

"Well, why didn't you invite them over? I made too much for just the two of us, anyway!" he scolded, and I just had to laugh.

God, who was he, my mother? This was too funny.

Emil ignored my laughter, far too interested in my future mate to care. "No, really! I want to meet them! What gender are they? Do they go to our school? What are they like? You can't expect me not to be curious. And now we're gonna be eating leftovers tomorrow."

His questioning was pretty adorable, and suddenly I was reluctant to tell him what was going on. "He's, uh... It's complicated," I said, for lack of a better explanation.

My brother raised an eyebrow. "Complicated how?"

Great going, Lu, I praised sarcastically. I had just effectively talked my way into a corner.

Well, there was no turning back now. I would just have to explain myself. "I'm not sure you really want to meet him. He's kinda the one who put the whole sex change curse on me to begin with. Arthur told me that he wanted to evade his soulmate and forced him to cast a spell. He doesn't even know I'm supposed to be his mate yet."

It took a moment for all that to sink in, but when the confused crease between his eyebrows finally faded, he clenched his fists angrily and growled, "And who is this son of a bitch? I need to know who to punch in the face."

"Emil, it's Matthias Andersen. I don't think you could take him in a fight. That, and... Well, he actually seems kind of nice."

Nice, and handsome, and an absolute idiot. Perfect.

Of course, that was far from being enough to quell Emil, who only grew more enraged at my remarks. "Well, duh! You're his soulmate! Lemme get my knife!"

He had a point—he was crazy, but he had a point… a knife point.

Eh? Too punny?

Yes?

Fine, then.

"Unless you happen to have a silver knife, you're probably not gonna do much damage," I shot back as I took a final bite of fish, setting my fork on my now-empty plate.

He raised an eyebrow. "Werewolf?"

I finished chewing, then swallowed. "Werewolf."

His shoulders slumped. "Aw, I was gonna-"

I cut him off, "I don't wanna know. Look, he really doesn't seem like a bad person. I'm gonna try to give him a chance before I plot his assassination. But, if I decide that I want to murder him after all, you'll be the first person I call, okay?"

"Deal," Emil replied, then paused for a moment as he phrased a question in his head, rethought the question, decided it sounded too offensive, then reworded. "Why do you think he's so nice, anyway? You may be distractible, but you're not an idiot."

Noting that both our plates were clean, I collected all the dishes and put them in the sink to wash later. "I'm starting to suspect that he might have done this as a result of his stress," I commented as I put the extra fish in a Tupperware container and placed it in the fridge. "Another pack-member of his has been separated from his soulmate, and he probably rashly decided it best to get rid of his own in the name of his pack. Stupid as he is, Matthias does have reason to be concerned, especially since our local dognapper is still out there."

"Dognapper?" Emil iterated. "God, today must have been interesting."

I nodded as a put the lemonade in the refrigerator as well. "Sure was. Arthur thinks there's a crazy sorcerer on the loose with some sort of vendetta against Matthias' pack, and I'm supposed to help track him down. We're calling in some professional sorcerers, and then we get to plan some sort of elaborate scheme."

At that, Emil's face visibly fell (not that he had exactly been a bright and happy sunshine child before), and he fell silent again.

Sitting back down at the table, I shot him a questioning glance, hoping to break down whatever barrier was keeping him from sharing his thoughts.

Finally, he sighed, "don't suppose there's any chance I can come, is there?"

"What?" I asked, not fully understanding. He wanted to come with me? I thought he'd been trying to avoid me. "I mean, if you really want to, but..."

"I'm coming," he decided, tone suggesting that this was not up for debate. "I need to meet him, douche-bag or no."

I didn't argue.

"Also, we need to go shopping," he added as if that was just an additional point that was completely related to the topic of our conversation.

Shopping? I just got groceries with mom's credit card yesterday—what more did we need? "What?"

"I'm not letting you steal clothes from me," he sneered, like borrowing a pair of jeans from his closet was some sort of capital offense, "and you can't wear the clothes you have now, so we need to go clothes shopping. It's just the logical decision."

And though I still didn't see what was so wrong with stealing clothes from him (they were a bit on the tight side, but definitely not unbearable), I did agree that I probably wanted some clothing to wear, in case this was a permanent situation I had just found myself in. "Okay, but why with you?"

"Trust me," Emil shot back with a smirk, "you want me with you. I have taste."

Yes. Taste. Of course. The stupid knit sweaters and ratty jeans he wore just screamed 'taste'!

Resisting the urge to laugh, I stood up and gave him a sisterly pat on the head as I made my way over to the entryway to retrieve my (borrowed) shoes, Emil in tow. "How cute, you're enough of a pretentious bastard that you think you have a better taste in fashion than me."

"You're used to wearing women's clothing though," he argued ever-so-logically, still trying his hardest to beat me out even though I really wasn't putting up much of a fight. "Don't you think it'd be a good idea to have someone with experience being a dude to help you?"

"Fair enough," I relented just to humor him, "but, I reserve the right to reject your advice."

"Cool," he said as he bent down to tie his shoes. "Let's go."

* * *

Mat had to reschedule. He had a game the next day.

I guess that it would be logical for a football game to take precedence over hanging out with some guy he didn't even know, but it still kinda made me realize just how differently we felt about each other.

However, a compromise was reached, and the next morning I begrudgingly rolled out of bed at far-too-early AM to get some coffee with him.

If this was what it took to see my soulmate again, romance could just go to hell, happily ever after or no.

Or so I thought as I did a final mirror check, admiring the androgynous flannel shirt and skinny jeans Emil had recommended I buy so that it wouldn't be a complete waste if I got turned back into a girl. Smart choice, though I wasn't quite sure how well the clothes would fit once I changed back.

I almost started to do my eyeliner when I realized that wasn't exactly conventional and put it back.

... Then I pulled it back out again because I give no fucks and guyliner is hot, tracing thick black marks around my eyes.

After that endeavor, I put my uniform in my backpack to change into and set out toward the coffee shop just a few blocks down.

Matthias wasn't there yet, so I got myself a cup of black coffee and sat at a conspicuous table, watching and waiting and still not awake enough to even think straight. I had almost nodded off in spite of the sudden rush of caffeine when-

"Better be careful, Lukas. You know that werewolves are the natural enemies of vampires, right?"

I might as well have jumped out of my seat. "What?"

There was a laugh, and Matthias popped out from behind me. "Sorry, your eyeliner just makes you look a bit like a vampire."

"Apparently you've never seen a vampire, then," I scoffed with less sting than I had intended to use (dear lord, was I incapable of speaking harshly to him? How obnoxious), "because I look nothing like one."

"Chill, bro," he said with a laugh as he took the seat across from me, setting his cup of coffee down on the table. "Just teasing is all. I didn't think you'd take me so seriously."

I was about to reply when I realized I had nothing to say.

Matthias Andersen had just shut me down.

The sad fact of the matter was that he was absolutely right: there was nothing to be bothered about because it was clearly just a joke.

"Whatever you say," was the only valid response that would preserve at least a fraction of my dignity and reputation.

He seemed not to notice my coldness toward him, instead opting to ask me a slew of personal questions amidst some disjointed babbling. "So, anyway, I was thinking that since you seem kinda cool, we could hang out. We go to the same school, right?"

I didn't reply, but that didn't faze him. "It'd be totally cool if we hung out. There's not really much opportunity for me to meet other people who know about this magic stuff, and I'm sure you probably don't know many supernatural folk either, so I was thinking-"

"You're rambling," I pointed out, "but, I see your point. Don't you have your meatheads—I mean, friends—to hang out with, though?"

Then, for some reason, his face contorted into something of a scowl, an expression that seemed quite foreign for someone so relaxed and charming. "Please don't make fun of my friends," he asked for the sake of propriety, though clearly I had agitated him beyond what he would reveal.

If I were capable of such an action, I might have apologized. "I'll stop. My point still stands though, I wouldn't exactly fit in with your friends at school."

Me? With the thick-skulled jocks? Not in this lifetime.

"Fine, let's not focus on that right now," Matthias decided. Then, instantly, way to quickly to be genuine, he plastered on an amiable smile. "So, how are you doing today?"

Truly, he was a master of grin-and-bear-it. I wondered where he had learned that skill. I actually had a similar tic, but I was a bit more stoic than of a feigned optimistic persuasion.

Either way, he was definitely less cheerful than he let on. "Tired," I replied bluntly.

"Huh." I had talked him into a dead end again, and he found himself floundering for a fitting question. "So, you're a sorcerer, huh?"

"Sorceress," I corrected.

He raised an eyebrow, and looked like he was about to speak out, but then he shook his head and remained silent.

Wait. Shit. Male. Right. "I mean, yeah, sorcerer. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "I'm trying to carry on a conversation, and you're not really helping. How old were you when you found out?"

"Fourteen." I waited patiently for his probable display of shock.

"That late?" he asked, a bit dubious but still calm.

Yes, that was a blow at both his intellect and his maturity. Personally, I thought it was a pretty nicely-formed insult, but whatever. "Yeah, that late. In my defense, I wasn't exactly raised by sorcerers the way Arthur was."

He visibly grimaced, the defined contours of his handsome face frowning and creasing in... Pity? No, that was too patronizing.

Sympathy. The shine in his sky blue eyes and the crease between his brows were displays of sympathy. "I feel that," he said, tone frosting over and settling into something more mysterious and aloof.

Aloofness didn't suit him. "How? You're a werewolf, your brother's a werewolf, you've probably been surrounded by them your whole life, right?"

"My mom's not a werewolf," he explained, "she just happened to have sex with two."

I whistled. "Kinky."

"No joke," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Both of them took off right away—something about instincts making them not safe around pups or some shit—and left my mom to figure out what the fuck was up with us."

"Twice in a row? That's just bad luck."

"Not completely. Her soulmate was a werewolf, but he kinda..." He held out a finger and slashed horizontally in front of his neck in a gesture of 'yeah, that dude kicked the bucket'.

Oh wow. "Oh wow."

For a moment, there was complete and utter silence, then Matthias glanced at his watch. "Ah, shit, we should probably get going. School starts in twenty minutes."

With that, the conversation was over, but the unanswered internal questions regarding my soulmate's life story had just begun. I was still just too flustered to engage in a deeper conversation than was required by our line of business without a good reason. Sure, he seemed like an open book, almost too trusting of me, but I wasn't ready to bring up anything relating to the soulmate dilemma yet. It was just too soon.

One stood out the most, and I couldn't get it out of my head: had he cut me off because he was afraid that I would die? What an imbecile.

And yet, he was no villain; I couldn't find it in me to perceive him as such. He was far too kind, far too understanding, far too _human_ to have done this without a valid reason. Just how stupid would he have to be to get rid of me? How wrecked would his experience with soulmates have to be for him to swear never to find his? Why was it worth my well-being? There was no way he was selfish enough to forget about my own feelings in this.

There had to be a reason—I just couldn't figure out what it was.

* * *

Antonio was a bit eccentric, but he was certainly friendly and undeniably good-looking. He appeared to be in his mid twenties, with a lovely tan, sparkling green eyes (almost like Arthur's, though green was a pretty common eye color for sorcerers, so that wasn't much of a surprise), and cute little dimples. His girlfriend, Chiara was equally gorgeous, her voluminous brown hair cascading down to her waist and her eyes the color of golden amber. Even though she was beautiful, her scowl appeared to be a permanent feature and made me wonder if my existence on this planet had somehow offended her.

The two sat next to each other on one of the overstuffed couches at the Kirkland's place, Chiara resting her head on Antonio's shoulder as she quietly complained that there was no food to be had.

Clearly, they were a rather eccentric pair, but they had certainly proven their knowledge. It only took about ten minutes for them to work out a viable solution, cast a protection spell on the two brothers, and schedule another meeting.

Efficient. Very efficient. That was good—I hate wasting time.

Both Matthias and Berwald had already left, Emil and I only lingered because Arthur told me to (right before he'd decided to excuse himself, leaving the four of us alone).

My brother turned to me and pouted. "I don't get it. All of his friends are fuckboys, so why isn't he?"

What a way to start a conversation. "You mean Matthias?"

"Yeah! I don't get it! He was so… polite, and nice, and-"

"Just admit it," I remarked with a smirk, "I was right."

Then I had the pleasure of watching him flounder for a response. "No, you weren't! What are you talking about? If anything, this just proves he's suspicious! He's totally hiding something."

"Oh, shut up," Chiara cut in suddenly, rolling her eyes. "You've only got about six months till you're best friends with him, anyway."

"What?" Emil shrieked, voice cracking ridiculously.

I understood. "Emil, she can see the future. She probably already knows how this is gonna end."

"Don't you wish that was how it worked?" she cried, suddenly frustrated. "Can't get anything I ask for."

Emil raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Chiara deadpanned. "Exactly what I said. If I consciously try to foretell something, my brain locks me out. It's pretty fucking stupid. I know your birthday, your life story, and all your magical powers, but I don't have a damn clue whether I'll get to eat any tomatoes tonight."

What was it with them and tomatoes? Did they just consume mass amounts of the fruit?

Personally, I thought tomatoes were kind of disgusting.

"Some psychic you are," Emil scoffed. "I don't have any magic abilities, so there aren't any to foretell."

She snorted. "Wanna bet on that?"

Oh shit, had she just asked him to bet? Emil was physically incapable of turning down bets—his competitive streak was too strong for him to do anything of the sort.

"Actually, yes, I do. If I find out I'm a sorcerer, I'll give you thirty bucks."

Perfect. A bet against a psychic. That sounded logical.

But, I had to admit that her prediction really did sound impossible. Maybe she'd seen something misleading?

Who knew?

However, Chiara seemed content. "Deal."

Suddenly, Arthur barged in with a kettle of tea and a platter of burned scones that his mother had made and sat down. No one dared to try a scone, and honestly, I couldn't blame them. The Kirklands were terrible cooks.

"Alright Arthur, why are you keeping us here?" I asked as I examined my nails, trying to look as impatient and bored as possible.

Unfortunately, Arthur seemed unfazed, taking a bite out of one of his pieces of charcoal—I mean, scones—and replying, "did you want the spell to be lifted or not? They might know how to cure you."

Oh. _Oh_...

So Arthur had some semblance of a brain after all? Go figure. Although, I suppose the bigger problem was the fact that I had failed to deduce that with by myself. God, I must have been losing my touch. I blamed testosterone.

But, no matter. My curse was about to be broken, and that was much more significant than any minor shortcomings on my part.

"Cure?" Antonio iterated for the sake of clarification. "Cure what?"

His girlfriend just smirked. "I was wondering when you dumbasses would ask us."

"Ask us what?"

My ex debriefed him. "One of the werewolves you just met, Matthias, recently forced me to cast a spell that suppressed his soulmate. It turned out that Lu here is his soulmate, and she somehow got turned into a man in the process."

"That's not so uncommon," Antonio interjected, which sounded entirely nonsensical to me. How the fuck could something like this be considered typical? "You want us to help you undo it?"

I nodded. "That would be preferred."

"Sounds like you need a love spell," he remarked with an easygoing smile.

Chiara seemed lost in thought.

"Would that work?" Arthur asked. "In the past, I've noticed love spells more just cause infatuation and sexual attraction, and tend not to even work if sexuality doesn't align."

Emil raised an eyebrow. "How'd you figure that out?"

"You know Francis? The half-siren you met during the-"

"Dragon incident?" Emil finished. "Yeah, I've met him."

"Well," Arthur replied, frustrated at the mere thought of Francis, who he really detested, "he wanted me to make Jan Mulder fall for him."

Jan? The vampire hunter? That must have been an interesting story.

Point taken, Emil nodded, then kept silent so as to allow things to get back on topic.

Antonio ignored the irrelevant comments, jumping right back to Arthur's prior argument. "You're right. Typically, love spells do not cause actual love unless there's already something there. However, if they're soulmates, that might be enough to cause actual feelings of love."

"I don't know how much this helps, but I can see you two sucking face if you decide to go for the love spell, and it looks kinda disgusting," Chiara added, seeming revolted that her brain had offered such a strange and undesired piece of information.

I met her gaze, unable to find any hint of deceit in her eyes. "You're sure it'll break the spell?" I asked.

She shrugged. "You're gonna kiss him. I'd say the odds are pretty good."

"Yes," Arthur said, "but isn't that how love spells like this are typically broken? Right in the spell, it usually says that a kiss will shock the subject free."

"It does looked pretty impassioned…. Yuck," Chiara sneered, shaking her head as if that would get rid of the offending prediction.

Antonio was unfazed. "Like I said before, the potion should be enough to make Matthias realize that Lu is his soulmate and rebind them. Even if it wears off, it doesn't matter." He turned to me. "What do you say? Wanna try?"

My ex shook his head, but I tried to disregard that in my decision-making process. Compared to professional sorcerers, his opinion meant very little to me. I had to admit that he had a point, though: this was certainly a long shot. But it wasn't like we had a better solution. If it didn't work, then back to the drawing board. No harm, no foul. I nodded. "Alright, I'm in. Let's see this love spell."

 **A/N: Okay, this is the second-to-last chapter in Act I, which means that I'll be switching the POV character soon. I've got a lovely beta (jesuisunepomme, a great writer in her own right) to help ensure that this goes smoothly, but even so, any comments or criticisms on my characterization would be awesome so that I know what to improve. Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and faves! See you guys next chapter (hopefully sooner than the last wait)!**


	5. Passion, Lust, and Rage

"Just slip some of this into his drink," Antonio told me, pouring a few teaspoons of the serum we'd made into a vial and sealing it up with a cork, "and he'll fall head over heels. That is, if everything goes according to plan."

That wasn't very reassuring, but I took the potion nonetheless, and put it in my pocket. Arthur shot me a scowl, but I ignored that as best I could. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you at the next meeting then?"

He looked reluctant for a moment, as if he had been expecting me to question him or refuse the potion altogether, but he quickly hid such doubts with a bright smile. "Yep! See ya, Lu...kas? Is that your real name?"

Dear lord, how was I supposed to know? "Technically, it's Lucia, but I'm not picky. Whatever works."

"Can I just call you Lu?" he asked.

Well, there was the solution that had been staring me in the face this whole time. Brill. "Sure. I kinda like that name, actually."

"Alright, then I'll see you around, Lu," he replied, and the nickname sounded even more perfect when he used it in context. I turned to leave, but he quickly called out, "oh, and remember: if you two kiss, the potion wears off, so only do that if you're sure the curse is broken. Got it?"

Sounded like some serious foreshadowing to me. Uh, I mean, sounded like a pretty fair warning to me. "Sure thing. Bye, then." The phrase 'thank you' slipped from my tongue, which was rare enough that I felt like I was speaking a foreign language.

But Antonio didn't notice. "You're welcome! See ya, Lu!"

* * *

I made sure to get Matthias some coffee the next morning when we met up at the cafe again (as had become commonplace, since it gave him more time to socialize and me more time to be in his vicinity), slipping in the cordial and stirring it gently before putting the cap back on and walking back to our table by the window. Casually, I placed the styrofoam cup in front of him.

"Thanks," he said, looking right into my eyes with unabashed platonic fondness.

Honestly, I wouldn't have minded so much had it not been for its platonic nature—although, I supposed, that was what the potion was for. "Don't just stare at me; go ahead and drink it," I replied, a bit more sharply than if intended. Chill out, Lu, I chided as I took a sip of my own black coffee.

If Matthias had noticed my shortness, he made no sign of it, taking a large gulp of the coffee and proclaiming, "wow, that's really sweet," which must have been a positive thing, given his jubilant grin.

Yuck. Sweet coffee.

I nodded impassively. "Glad you like it. You wanted to talk about something?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," he replied with such a cocky, shit-eating grin that I had to wonder whether he was teasing or flirting with me. "Just stuff. Is there anything you wanna talk about?"

He was so carefree, so chill, so selfless. I wished I could be so naturally likable.

What if I had been the one to cast a spell over myself? What if I had decided to get rid of him instead? There wasn't a lick of doubt in my mind that I would've fallen for him anyway. "I dunno," I said with a shrug. "How did you like the professional sorcerers yesterday?"

"Antonio and Chiara?" he asked superfluously. "They seemed pretty cool! Wouldn't it be awesome to predict the future, or be, like, a potions master or something?"

Unsurprisingly, he didn't have any words of criticism to say. For some reason I couldn't explain, this got under my skin. Was he incapable of noticing people's flaws, or was he just feigning naïveté? "They're not so great," I muttered under my breath. "Antonio hasn't even given us any real help yet."

The werewolf looked at me as if I were insane, head cocked to the side and a single eyebrow raised. "Whatcha talkin' about, Lukas? They already cast a protection spell and put together a tentative plan. What else were you expecting?"

"Are you always such an idealist? Even with Antonio's help, you're all still in a vulnerable position. We should all be prepared for the worst," I shot back, feeling a sudden fire within me come to life that I could only later identify as overprotection. This, paired with my realist philosophy, made for a pretty brutal shut-down.

"Lukas," Matthias snapped. His eyes, usually warm and consoling, were now burning with such passion that I could barely keep myself from ducking my head in intimidation. "I let a member of my pack get kidnapped on my watch, and he's being held hostage and tortured while I'm completely helpless. Positivity is the only thing keeping me from going insane, so I recommend you shut the fuck up." All this was said with a saucy grin and a patronizing tone that begged for me to punch him in the face. Unfortunately, his face was way too beautiful to mess up in a fight, so I couldn't resort to violence.

His retort was so well-executed that I couldn't even think of a decent response. Figured he'd be so witty; one doesn't climb to the top of the high school social ladder (especially as a werewolf) without ample social skills and street smarts. Had I really thought it wise to toy with one of the popular kids?

This awoke a whole new stream of thought that I, having the tendency to compulsively overanalyze people, wasn't capable of censoring from my mind. How much of his fun-loving and easygoing personality was genuine? Was it all just an act to make me like him? What if Emil was right, and he really was just a heartless d-bag under the guise of a naïve little puppy dog?

It stunned me when I realized that even with such ideas, my affection for him still wasn't hurt. He could have been a mass-murderer, and I still probably would have tried to justify it in my brain. For someone as cold and logical as me, this was not only frustrating, but also a little frightening; I realized that my feelings made no sense, but in spite of that, I couldn't bring myself to care that they didn't.

Apparently, my time to reply had run out. Matthias stood up, shooting his empty cup of sickeningly sweet love spell into the garbage can the same way he would have shot a basketball into a hoop. "I've got to go meet my girlfriend before she leaves for the rest of the week," he explained, tone still infuriatingly condescending. "I'll see you later."

In retrospect, I supposed the tone was well-deserved. His sass had just been at best a natural (if not, an overwhelmingly patient and merciful) response. Sure, he was a pretentious jock, but the fact that he, a werewolf, had to deal with _me_ , yet still managed to hold out until now without one angry comment… it was amazing, to be honest. Maybe we really were meant to be.

Wow, my opinion on that had changed far too quickly. Was that a bad sign? Could there be a flaw in my logic?

Matthias let out a sigh, then stood up and walked out the door, refusing to look me in the eyes again.

It was only a minute later that I actually comprehended what he'd said.

Eyes suddenly wide with fear, I realized, "Wait, Matthias has a girlfriend?"

Shit.

* * *

I typically ate lunch alone. It's not like I didn't have friends who were willing to sit with me, but I preferred to get my homework done in school.

Okay, that wasn't exactly true. Sitting by myself to eat was actually a more recent development, but there was no way I was gonna sit with Arthur, which ruled out the magic club table, and Emil had his own clique of freshmen to dork around with. It just made sense for me to eat lunch alone. I had, however, hovered closer to the jock table as of late, due to personal reasons I've already discussed.

Shitty explanations aside, this day was no different. The table was empty save for me, my backpack, and my math homework, which I was currently trying to finish before my class the next hour.

All had been going according to plan until Matthias came by. I'd been using a closer vicinity to him so as to avoid the effects of isolation from my soulmate, but I hadn't expected Mat to actually go out of his way to see me. "Lukas! Is that you?"

Had he not been shouting, I might not have heard him over my music. Quickly, I jerked my headphones off my ears and coolly replied, "Yeah, it's me."

"Um, could I sit next to you?" Matthias asked, and finally I realized what was going on.

Love spell. Right. I could handle this.

Sure, I hadn't been expecting him to fawn over me until after school, but this worked too. "I dunno, can you?"

I thought he would understand my sarcasm and decide sit down, but he just gawked at me like a confused puppy.

Suppressing a smirk, I pulled out the chair next to me and said, "yes, you can sit here, idiot. What's up?"

He shook his head as he took his seat, muttering, "I dunno, Lu. I haven't been able to stop, well, _thinking_ about you since I left this morning. You…"

"What?"

"You look really hot."

God, had he really just said that? "Oh?" I replied, inadvertently prompting him to go on.

"Yeah, your eyes are amazing I love that shade of blue and you've got a nice butt- I mean, uh…" Matthias suddenly seemed to realize just how silly he was being, biting his lip to keep himself from saying any other embarrassing things (and honestly, I didn't blame him). "Sorry, that came out wrong…. Um, I mean, I- god, I feel like I just forgot how to talk."

"Sounds like it, too," I shot back teasingly enough for him to him to flush pink. Great, I could fluster him. My advantage was shaky, though: I was about one flirtatious remark away from starting to blush myself, and keeping the upper hand was vital to this love game.

He cast his eyes about the cafeteria, just seeming to notice how many people there were, growing increasingly uncomfortable the more he thought about the situation. Finally, he shook his head. "Do you think we could go somewhere a bit more private?"

I glanced at my math homework, which I'd barely made a dent in. Then I looked up at Matthias, who was begging with his beautiful blue eyes, whose heart was beating double-time in his chest, who had just put his hand atop mine and oh wow his hand was so warm that actually felt really nice.

Then I took another peek at my homework, which my teacher was going to be checking in less than an hour and would likely chew me out for if I failed to complete it. Not only that, but it was also an assignment that was impossible to bullshit my way through…

But, Matthias. If all went according to plan, my teacher wouldn't even see me again after, well, actually, my teacher might not see me looking like this again.

 _Goodbye, math homework._

* * *

I took him to the abandoned Magic Club classroom, where we could talk in private and, if necessary, I would have the materials to cast a helpful spell of some sort (the second reason was less of a practicality and more just to keep me calm and collected enough to get through this). "What is it?" I asked, feigning confusion. "Is something wrong?"

He didn't respond for a moment, and it almost looked like he was trying to keep himself under control as well. I could feel his eyes staring me up and down, as if I were prey to his will (little did he know that I had him wrapped around my finger). "No, nothing's wrong," he said with a frown. "It's just that, well…. I can't explain it. You seem different for some reason."

"Different how?" I inquired meekly, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear so he could see my whole face. "Maybe you're just noticing something you haven't before." This game was decidedly rather amusing; I had to keep myself from smirking at the poor boy's frustration.

"That might be it." Matthias furrowed his brow, eyes still processing every aspect of my appearance. He seemed to focus most on my eyes, staring into them as if they were hypnotic. There was also a reasonable amount of attention devoted to areas down a bit lower, but I tried to avoid thinking about that too much. "It's something about the way you look. Did you get a haircut or something?" He stepped closer to me, taking the lock of hair I'd just pulled behind my ear and running his fingers through it as if it was fine silk.

Well, yes, the haircut was new. "No."

"New clothes?" He dropped the hair gently, only to put his hands on my back, kneading soft circles along my shoulder blades.

I was in heaven, and yes, the shirt was new. "Nope."

"I guess it's just in my head then," Matthias sighed as his hands came to a halt. The ground started to seem more interesting than I did, and he turned his gaze to the floor.

Noting his sudden discomfort, I tried to sooth him with a consolatory pat on the shoulder. "What's going on in your head? What's the matter?"

"You just- ah, this is so embarrassing." He broke free from me entirely and took three steps back, eyes still boring into the floor as he stretched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I should've left you alone. Don't worry, it's nothing."

"Matthias, you wouldn't've gotten my attention if it was nothing," I urged, trying to get him to confess as quickly as possible, "and now I feel like you're leaving me hanging. What's wrong?"

He grit his teeth like he was in physical pain. "It's just… I'm not usually into guys like this."

"Like what?"

"Don't get me wrong: I don't think I could ever go out with a dude, but every now and then… you're just really attractive."

Whoa. He said it. He said it… in the least satisfying way possible. Oh my fucking god. "What's that supposed to mean? That is the most 'no homo' thing I've heard in my life. If you're attracted to someone, why wouldn't you want to date them?"

"Because I don't want to? And I have a girlfriend?" He let out a groan, combing a hand through his gelled hair and biting his lip. "It's complicated. Sorry, just… I haven't been able to get you out of my head since I left this morning, and now I get why. I'm sorry if I led you on for a minute there, but-"

"Fuck you," I shot back as I grabbed him by the collar of his red t-shirt and pulled him in so his lips met mine. He went along with it for a moment before he jerked away and shoved me so hard I nearly fell to the floor.

"Wha- what the hell was that?" he gasped incredulously. "I just said that I didn't want to-"

"I know," I replied as serenely as I could manage. "All I was doing was breaking the spell."

Matthias stared at me for a second, confused, but then his eyes lit up in recognition, and his face tightened into a cold, unforgiving death glare. "You cast a spell on me? Is that why that just happened?! What the fuck, Lukas!"

"It's a long story, but yes, that was a love spell." My voice wavered, and the mask I typically wore to hide my apprehension cracked, revealing the insecure asshole I really was.

"You cast a love spell on me… without my consent?!" he shouted furiously. "I thought I trusted you! I thought we were supposed to be friends."

The hint of sadness that shone through his ice-cold glower stabbed me in the chest and made it difficult to breathe. I could feel the tears of frustration and heartbreak welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. This couldn't be happening. I refused to believe that this could possibly have gone so wrong. "Matthias, you don't understand. I-"

"No, I think I do understand." His voice was acidic—it seared through my skull and burned permanent scars on the surface of my brain. "I've been wondering what purpose you've served this whole time. You're not even close to being experienced or skilled as Arthur, so why'd he recruit you? But I think I get it now. You didn't want to help me, you wanted to get in my pants. I bet you don't even care that Tino's being tortured, or that Berwald is heartbroken. Hell, I'd be surprised if you even cared about how I felt about any of this."

"Of course I do," I cried out as tears slid down my cheeks. "I'm-"

"Great, that means you'll listen to me when I ask you to leave." The depressed longing in his gaze was squelched, replaced by distrust and wariness.

"What?" I wanted to scream and yell and curse his name. He didn't understand, couldn't ever understand. He would even listen to me.

"You're off the mission, Lukas," he scathed, aiming his venom right my heart. "Leave before I do something violent, please. You know how werewolves get."

"Matthias, I-"

"Fine, I guess _I'll_ just leave then!" he shouted before turning and stomping away as fiercely as he could, further shattering my heart with each grueling step.

As the door slammed behind him, I fell to my knees, ashamed and angry with myself.

The bell rang, demanding I go to my class, but I didn't move.

What was the point? My mission had failed. Arthur had warned me of the dangers that came with love potions, and I hadn't listened. This was all entirely my fault.

I almost wanted to laugh at how right I'd been to hate romance before any of this had started. No one would ever choose someone so cruel and insufferable as me. There would always be someone prettier or happier or friendlier or smarter to take my place. Even a man under a love spell could see that.

Even my soulmate could see that.

Romance is so _romanticized_. No, seriously. Every stupid fairytale story and fanfiction writer's fic is the same churn of shit with perfectly impossible love and a kiss to save the day, but no one ever realizes that there are some characters, some _real people_ , who will never be good enough to experience true love as they convey it.

Matthias could not have been more in the right than when he'd decided to get rid of his soulmate. He was wise to leave me alone and to stay away from me. His sweet, innocent soul did not deserve me. Whoever this girlfriend of his was probably treated him better, anyhow.

I should never have given him the potion.

I should never have decided to see him.

I should have stuck to my own agenda and kept the fuck away from romance, because this would never, ever work.

It was with that realization that I decided to make my way to math class, homework only half finished and heart only half mended.

Only one of those was fixable at that point.

* * *

 **End of Act 1: Lucia**

* * *

 **A/N: Eyyy, thanks for the one review, guest! It made my day after a couple weeks having none for the previous chapter and I'm really glad you liked it. Guys, follows and faves are amazing, but reviews are definitely the most clear form of criticism and compliment that I can get. If you have anything to say (even something like "whoa that was a piece of shit"), please don't hesitate to tell me because it's really, really hard to post something and get no feedback. Thank you all, and I'll see you next chapter!**


	6. -A Brief Interlude-

**A/N: I actually don't ave any excuse this time around. This chapter's been finished and beta-read for like a week... I just... forgot? Sorry! Anyhow, this is an interlude, so whatever picky guest reviewer keeps bemoaning the pains of reading first-person POV can have a break for 2000 words. Next chapter (and the next four or five after that) will be from Matthias' perspective. Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews last chapter! They really mean a lot!**

 _"I'm not killing him!" Tino wailed hysterically. "I won't! You can't make me!"_

 _The woman (Natalya, right?) met his wild eyes with her frosty deep-blue gaze, letting out a slightly disgruntled sigh. "Look, it wasn't my choice to lock you up in here and torture you. Wouldn't it just be easier if you followed along?"_

 _"He's my soulmate," he replied through gritted teeth as he felt a sharp pain at his collarbone. "I would rather die."_

 _Natalya rolled her eyes, then swept her silky blonde hair over one shoulder and released him from his current torture session as she walked away, saying, "better bring in my brother, then. He's got a more… interesting solution to this conundrum." Then, she turned back, pity in her gaze. "You'd really be better off just following along. I'm sorry this didn't work out."_

 _Tino collapsed onto the ground, tired and bruised. He spat blood, then, with just as much force, shot back, "No you're not."_

 _But she was already gone._

* * *

 _"You kicked 'im out?" Berwald asked, a concerned crease wearing its way between his brows. He was distraught enough to turn away from the window for once, and honestly, Matthias wasn't quite sure whether he should take that as a good omen or a sign that his actions were just that deplorable. Lately, his brother had been spending an unhealthy amount of time sitting in a small alcove in the living room and staring dejectedly out the window as if it would bring Tino back._

 _If this was important enough that it required eye-contact, Mat might as well just pull the alarm and start panicking._

 _But, Matthias was legendary at keeping his cool, and he could definitely manage this without being rash. He'd probably acted in rashness enough earlier today when he'd failed to so much as listen to Lukas' explanation, but he digressed. "Fuck yeah, I kicked him out," he replied flatly. "We can't trust someone who casts love spells on people for no fucking reason. I'm not even into dudes."_

 _Then, in a flummoxing turn of events, Berwald actually managed a small grin. No, like, an actual, legit smile. And a playful one, at that. "Liar," he sighed as he shook his head, letting the smirk fade like the waning of the moon, slow and steady and almost sad._

 _He used to be able to be happy for longer than thirty seconds at a time._

 _Mat rolled his eyes, but relented nonetheless. "Okay, fine, I'm into dudes, and Lukas is pretty hot, but I don't think friends-with-benefits is what he was going for, and romantic shit with guys is… ew." He wasn't lying; though he could easily see himself doing certain things with Lukas that were definitely beyond the friendship barrier, romantically speaking, a relationship would make him highly uncomfortable._

 _If only his damned sexual orientation could line up with his romantic interests…_

 _"You were consid'ring it, though," Berwald found it necessary to point out, as if that didn't just make things more complicated._

 _"Ber, like I said, I don't think I want him the same way he wants me. I don't wanna use him, and I sure as hell don't want_ him _using me. I've already got a girlfriend, anyway, and Emma is awesome." He paused there, just to let the fact that he had a girlfriend sink in (because apparently that was a hard concept to grasp). "I don't need some guy getting in my way."_

 _His brother grimaced as he adjusted his glasses, seemingly unsatisfied. "D'you even know why he did it?"_

 _"Not sure I wanna know. He's probably just like anyone else who's after me: he thought I was hot, and he realized I was stupid, so he tried to take advantage of me."_

 _"What 'f he's got a good reason to be after you?"_

 _That was the remark that convinced Matthias of the fact that Berwald had to know something he didn't. There was no conceivable way someone so sensible could entertain such an idea in light of a nonconsensual love spell, even when suffering from the staggering effects of being separated from his own love interest for so long._

 _He scowled. "I'll cross that bridge when it comes. That, and have you seen him? He acts so cold and unfeeling. I don't think he even really likes me. More likely, he's one of the spies for the other side."_

 _"S'pose you're right," Berwald said, but though he really didn't look convinced, neither really wanted to push the dispute any further. He let out a doleful sigh, which signaled a return to his natural state, facing the window and gazing out toward the sunset and hoping in vain that his soulmate would appear off in the distance, turning onto their street, unscathed and with a smile as wide as ever._

 _Where the fuck was Tino?_

* * *

 _"Okay, so clearly the love spell didn't work," Arthur noted as he paced back and forth across the Magic Club room the next day. Again, Vladimir was nowhere to be seen, and Lu was really starting to worry about his whereabouts. "What should we try now?"_

 _Emil raised his hand. "We could-"_

 _Lu shook her head. "No."_

 _"Huh?" Both boys turned to her in shock, then shivered as if the ice in her glare was sharp and cold enough to make the room frost over._

 _"I'm not trying any more of these stupid antics," she explained. "We proposed spells to weaken soulmate bonds for Berwald; those should work just fine on me."_

 _"You're just gonna give up?" Emil queried incredulously._

 _"Can you really blame me?" she demanded furiously, though the bite in her tone was weighed down by sadness and hopelessness. "I've experienced nothing but disappointment and heartbreak because of this soulmate shit, excuse me for not wanting to deal with it anymore. Matthias had the right idea. I should try to ignore him, too."_

 _"But Lu, Mom's getting back from Iceland in two weeks. How are you supposed to explain this to her? She doesn't even know you're a witch."_

 _"The fuck if I know," she spat. "She probably wouldn't even notice if I avoided her anyway. Either way, it'll be easier than getting Matthias Andersen on my side."_

 _Arthur put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt at consolation. "Lu-"_

 _But she shrugged him off. "Shut up. I've got homework to do. I'll catch you later. C'mon, Emil."_

 _With that, she grabbed her brother's hand and stomped out of the classroom, sure to slam the door behind her._

* * *

 _Emil had decided to hang out with his friend, Yong Soo, that afternoon, so Lu was walking home herself._

 _Or so she thought, until she heard a deep voice behind her cry out, "wait!"_

 _She seethed, still highly impatient after the previous meeting. Whoever this person was, they'd best prepare for her to be short with him. "Not today, Satan."_

 _He cleared his throat, though to Lu it sounded more like an animalistic growl. Then he called out to her again: "Lucia Jensen."_

 _Lu had been fully prepared to keep walking and ignore this numbskull, but the mention of her full name sent what she imagined to be a spider crawling down her spine and goosebumps rising up and down her arms. She swiveled about on her heels, eyes wide with alarm. "What did you just say?"_

 _Now that she was facing the boy, Lu could see that it was none other than Matthias' brother, Oxenstierna, whose stance was assertive and almost overbearing. "Lucia Jensen. 'T's your real name, right?"_

 _"How did you know?" she demanded, indignant at this boy's apparent prying into her personal life._

 _"Thought ya seemed familiar," he stated with a shrug. "Y'were on the women's hockey team last year, and I recognized th'name. That, and y'look the same. Got a cowlick in the right place and everything."_

 _Subconsciously tugging at a small, unruly lock of hair located at the base of her neck, Lu narrowed her eyes at the perceived threat. "What do you want from me?"_

 _Berwald didn't falter. "You're Mat's soulmate."_

 _"And?"_

 _"I'm sorry." His tone was infuriatingly genuine and sympathetic; it made Lu want to punch him in the face._

 _She managed to keep her cool, though. "Don't be. It's not your problem."_

 _"But I-"_

 _"This conversation is over. Good luck with Tino. I highly recommend you take me up on that numbing spell soon; you look like hell. Try to eat some food, too. You're starving yourself, I can tell." With that, she turned around again, and began to walk away._

 _Oxenstierna, however, wasn't having any of that. He rested a hand on her shoulder, which caught Lu off guard enough that she stopped in her tracks._

 _"Wanna join th'hockey team?" he asked._

 _She blinked. "Huh?"_

 _"Can't join the other team anymore," he explained as his cheeks went pink in embarrassment (had he really just said that out of nowhere?), "and hockey season's starting up soon. Figured you'd wanna join."_

 _There was a beat of silence as Lucia stared him in the eyes, one eyebrow cocked. "Why are you offering? You've barely even spoken to me before."_

 _"Know what you're going through…" Berwald replied, biting his lip as if it would keep him from misspeaking or sounding awkward. "Also happen t'be captain of the hockey team, and we have an extra spot since Tino's gone. That, and I'll owe ya a favor after…"_

 _"After?" Lu prompted._

 _"After I ask you to take th'pain away," he finished with a sigh. Their faces were close enough that Lu could see his teal eyes, stern and aggressive, but so empty and sad from a loss that there was no way she could even think of denying him this agreement (not that she would have)._

 _"Whataya say?" Berwald asked._

 _Lu only saw one logical option in light of both their conundrums. "Sure, why not?"_

* * *

 _"I don't think you guys get it," Tino retorted frantically since the man had, again, asked him to kill his boyfriend. His hands were still bound, but the silver cords had been replaced with simple rope, and compared to the burn of the accursed metal against his skin, they might as well have been made of soft velvet. The wooden chair was beginning to feel uncomfortable after 72 hours, but he supposed that these were the least of his problems. "Berwald is my soulmate. We're kind of a couple. We do couple things together. I'm not about to kill him, and even if I wanted to, I think there's some sort of laws of physics or magic whatever that keeps me from doing it anyway so really I don't think it's very logical to ask me to kill him and seriously like what the fuck why don't you just kill him yourself if you're really that set on it I don't understand?"_

 _He hadn't meant to ramble, but he thought he'd gotten the idea across pretty clearly anyhow._

 _Natalya's brother (whose name he still hadn't figured out) kept his cool, smiling lightly and cordially. "Do not worry, Tino. We know exactly what we are doing. It might not appear to make sense at the moment, but everything will become clear as day in the end."_

 _"Well, that's very comforting," Tino drawled, dousing his words with the most poignant venom he could manage given his weakened state. "Thanks for that."_

 _"You're very welcome!" His tone sounded so cheerful, so sweet, so_ genuine _, that Tino had to wonder just how deranged this man had to be. "Now," he continued, "if you are refusing to do this willingly-"_

 _"And by 'willingly', you mean 'after extensive torture'," Tino cut in._

 _The man seemed not to listen. "We will have to revert to phase two then. Natalya? Cease torturing our guest. I believe we require something less… voluntary. Goodbye for now, Tino. I will see you again in just a few minutes."_

 _Less voluntary? How- oh. Oh shit. "You're going to brainwash me?!"_

 _The door slammed shut, and he was left to ponder that hypothesis in solitude._

 **A/N: Guyyyyssss look at the new cover art my beta-reader did that she is amazingly amazing omggggg... Check out JeSuisUnePomme, she's just as good at writing as she is at drawing.**


	7. Act II: Matthias - Nausea

My dreams were plagued with angels.

Her face was only about four inches from mine, but I still couldn't see her eyes. Every time I tried to sneak a glance, I would lose the ability to move my head, and whenever she seemed to be looking me in the eye, I would get lost in long, silky locks of hair, or chapped, pink lips, or smooth, porcelain skin, or… I think you get the point.

Such is the nature of dreams, I guess, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. This girl was clearly beautiful, so why would catching a glance of her eyes be so wrong? I loved eyes, they were beautiful and unique and gorgeous and I'm gonna shut up now.

… Take my girlfriend at the time, Emma. Her eyes were dramatic, invigorating, and brilliant; alluring green eyes that I usually associated with sneaky cats and sorcery. She wore heavy makeup that colored her eyelids and showed off her long eyelashes.

Actually, my thing for eyes and my subconscious refusal to let me see this dream girl's eyes were probably directly correlated.

"Do you love me?" she asked, her voice dark and velvety like a rich chocolate cake—bittersweet and so delicious it was almost overwhelming. This hadn't been the first time I'd dreamt about her, but this was the first time she had spoken to me, and it left me dumbfounded. Something about it sounded familiar, but it was very clear that I'd never heard such a luxurious voice, a confident alto that made storms rise at its presence.

The fact that four words had stunned me so much was proof that my dream mind was far too imaginative and descriptive. I blamed the late night conversations on witchcraft I'd been having with Arthur.

It took a moment for me to remember what she'd said, and even longer to remember how to speak. And when my brain had finally run through that, all I could muster was, "Uhhh... Yeah."

Smooth.

"Are you sure? I don't think you do." Her tone was mocking, trying its best to stab me in the heart, but I could see tears streaming down her face from eyes I couldn't see. Even as she was heartbroken, she was still trying to gain an offensive position. This girl was clearly pretty brave.

I wrapped an arm around her waist, combed a hand through her long, blonde hair, and tried to comfort her, though she probably didn't need it. "'Course I do. How could I hate my own soulmate?" The words spilled out of my mouth before I'd even decided to speak, adding much-needed context to the scene my dream had set up. So this mystery girl was my soulmate? That sounded like a self-inflicted guilt trip to me.

Her brow furrowed (though I still couldn't find her eyes; I had begun to suspect that the girl simply didn't have any), and her lips pulled into a frown. She had ceased crying, and had begun to level me with a stern stare (and felt myself involuntarily avert my gaze to avoid seeing it). The girl's voice had fallen from confidence and gravity to dejection. "Why would you leave me then?"

I knew the answer, but I couldn't bring myself to say it, couldn't even look at her.

She was an angel. I was a coward.

* * *

My alarm clock that morning was a frustrated Belgian girl calling, "Matthias, we're gonna be late for school! Get down here!"

Still groggy from sleep, I staggered to the window in my pajamas, muttering curses under my breath. "Yeah, yeah, Em. I'll be right down, okay?"

"Hurry!" was her only reply.

And so I did, stripping as fast as I could and tossing on a pair of jeans and a shirt, along with a sweater. I didn't have to worry about breakfast—we always ate at her family's bakery—so I showered, brushed my teeth and headed downstairs to face the day.

"Hey!" she greeted as I shut the door behind me.

"Hey, yourself," I replied, walking with her down my driveway and through the busy street on the sidewalk. "How did the away game go?"

Emma was on the women's soccer team, and they'd had their regional championship game last Saturday. Their team was really good, and had it not been so far away, I definitely would have gone to see it in person. "It was great! We won by 5-2 to a team from Michigan."

Michigan. Where the hell was Michigan? "That's awesome!" I exclaimed nonetheless. "'Course, I still missed you."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Mat, it was three days."

"Three days too long, if you ask me."

"You're a massive dork," she cooed, too endeared for her teasing to have any bite. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yeah, Jan has, actually." I smirked, the same way I always did when I pointed out a similarity between the eldest two Mulder siblings. They both loved each other a lot, and they got along pretty well, but Emma and Jan both claimed that they were completely different. I begged to differ.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, brother…"

"Exactly!"

Dating my best friend's sister was probably a mistake, but at the time, it had seemed to make sense.

I had always had a thing for Emma Mulder, and recent shit had made me crave distractions of a more… romantic nature, I guess. Any dreams I'd had of suddenly meeting her, the her I was meant to be with, were kinda squelched at this point, so why not Emma? My mind told me that without a soulmate bond, it was doomed to end it heartbreak, but my heart said that she was the sweetest girl I knew, and my nose smelled waffles.

In the end, my nose won out.

"I kinda walked into that, didn't I?" Emma laughed. She ceased her walking automatically, which was probably good because she might have toppled to the ground otherwise. Emma laughed with her whole body, from her trembling shoulders to her stomping feet. If something was funny enough (like, actually funny; not unexpected-pun funny), she would double over with tears streaming down her face, and I still hadn't quite decided whether that was super cute or slightly frightening or both.

Her laughter was contagious, and I found myself giggling along with her. "Totally."

"Well, it was pretty clever," she remarked as she regained her breath, "I'll give you that much."

"That's it?" I demanded, feigning offense. Really? A full thirty seconds of laughter, just for five words of praise? That wasn't fair.

"What else would you want?" Emma asked, smile returning to her face. "A five-page essay on the amount of genius needed for your witticisms?"

 _Well, here goes nothing._ I put on my best shit-eating grin. "I was thinking you could give me a kiss."

Emma's cheeks turned a lovely shade of rosy red, which I took that as a good sign. "Oh. In that case…"

And with that, she stood on her tiptoes and pecked me on the lips.

Who said I couldn't date someone who wasn't my soulmate? I called bullshit in that very moment.

Especially since I didn't even have a soulmate.

* * *

I had barely sat down to eat when Jan Mulder grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, and dragged me to an outside picnic table off-campus so he could smoke while we talked. We sat across from each other in stilted silence for a bit, then Jan finally looked up at me with glazed green eyes, deep circles worn below them from stress and lack of sleep.

He offered me a puff from his pipe.

"Cut the crap, bro," I snapped. "What do you want from me?" Usually, I wasn't so impatient with him, but he only called me out here like this when there was trouble, and I hated trouble.

In answer, he took a newspaper out of his sturdy leather satchel, and slammed it down onto the table with a resounding _thwack!_

The headline, emblazoned into the thin paper in big bold block letters, read:

* * *

 **SERIAL KILLER ON THE LOOSE!  
** **OVER TWENTY-FIVE DEAD IN PAST MONTH!  
** **CIVILIANS WARNED TO TAKE CAUTION WHEN TRAVELING AFTER DARK!**

* * *

A low whistle escaped my mouth. "Holy shit."

"I think it's a vampire," he replied, as if I'd asked.

"You think everything's a vampire. I came down with the flu and you thought a vampire attacked me."

"Fine, but this is actually a vampire," he promised with conviction.

As much as I wanted to just shake off his speculations, something in Jan's tone told me that this was serious. I let out an exasperated sigh, then looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm listening."

Jan immediately switched into vampire-hunter mode. "Blood levels of the victims are very low, and some of the earlier ones are nearly drained," he pointed out as he gestured toward a part of the article he'd highlighted. "Autopsy reports show no wounds or points it could have drained from. Some were also found in suspicious pools of blood. But that's not all…" He trailed off for mysterious effect, and if I concentrated hard enough, I probably could have heard the X-Files theme playing in the background.

Most people viewed Jan as an eccentric, which makes sense because the average person doesn't walk around brooding and looking to deal pot (as well as synthetic blood for vampires, which is even weirder) on the black market. Hell, I thought he was eccentric, and I'm a fucking werewolf. He's a pretty weird guy, and the hipster vibes from the scarf and vintage pipe totally went with his vanity and mysterious douchebaggery. Kids probably avoided him on the streets. I know I avoided him on the streets.

The Mulder family owned a small café just a few blocks away from the school. I would highly recommend it; the waffles are to die for (and no, I'm totally not biased by the fact that my girlfriend came up with the recipe herself).

But at night, they had a sort of side hobby. Jan's mom had been hunting vampires for over twenty years, and Jan (along with his little brother) had long since picked up the odd occupation.

"Go on," I prompted, on the off-chance that this was a legit emergency.

He looked about melodramatically like he was about to give me a piece of confidential information, then said, "Vladimir Lupei hasn't been in school for weeks."

I deadpanned. "And you think I should help?"

"Of course."

This piqued my interest, and I probably would've agreed to work for him right then had I not been so busy with other supernatural activities. Knowing that Jan never worked for free, and never elected his workers and henchmen unpaid, I tried to look as uninterested as I could as I glanced down at my nails. "What's in it for me? I'm already kinda busy."

Unfortunately, Jan meant business."For one," he began, his lips tugged into a stern, frustrated line, "the police have already started debating a curfew, which might keep you from, say, leaving the house during that _certain time of month_."

Of course, I was distracted from my original intent by my friend's remark. "God, when will you stop talking about lycanthropy the same way you talk about menstruation?"

"Whenever you stop making a big deal out of it. The look on your face is priceless." He seemed to realize how far we'd strayed from the original purpose of the meeting, and he suppressed his smirk in favor of his typically brooding glare. "That's beside the point, though. You could probably smell a vampire a mile away. Maybe. On a good day."

"That's fair. But, don't you have your own methods?"

Jan shook his head. "This vampire is incredibly stealthy. The police couldn't even pick up fingerprints. We need to someone who can specifically smell vampires. Our equipment isn't gonna cut it."

I smirked, a genius pun working its way into my brain. "So you want me to be your… bloodhound?"

"Oh my god," he groaned, as if I'd said something terrible and offensive (although, Jan did seem pretty humorless). "Has anyone ever told you that your puns are awful?"

"Really? I thought it was pretty smart. Emma doesn't seem to mind!" I argued, suspecting that the jab would get under his skin.

I proved correct; Jan cringed and politely asked, "can we not talk about the fact that my best friend and my sister are in a relationship?"

"Fine, fine. So, what exactly is my job, as the team's official Bloodhound™?" The trademark was not said aloud, but it was totally implied.

Jan pulled out his phone and typed in a new reminder labeled 'Bloodhound', which proved that he didn't hate the pun as much as he'd let on. "I'll text you tonight. We'll probably meet up at around eight. You can smell around, and if you're lucky, you'll get to punch a vampire in the face."

This seemed reasonable, so I finally nodded. "Alright. I'm in."

* * *

There are some people in the world who seem impossible to understand. Lukas, for instance. That damned asshole always wore the same frown with a matching glower, even when he was doing crazy things like fucking kissing me. What a dick, right?

My brother was the same way. He had such a killer glare that his own soulmate was intimidated by him for a while. It's not like Berwald's mean or aggressive in most situations—honestly, he's a hell of a lot nicer than me—he's just tall and broad-shouldered and his eyesight is bad enough that he's always squinting and scowling to see people's faces. This condition had only worsened in the past few weeks after Tino was kidnapped, to the point where he was completely antisocial. I'd have to drag him away from the window to get him to eat (if he had his appetite to begin with), force him out of bed to get to school, and track him down to wherever he'd wandered to after school (usually the woods). I might have been an idiot, but I could definitely tell that Berwald was off.

Which is why I was so confused when I found him in the kitchen making dinner while listening to ABBA after school one day. He hadn't gone for a walk or gravitated toward the window, and for the first time in a long while he seemed… well, not exactly happy (Berwald never seems happy), but definitely less depressed and hopeless and gloomy.

My instincts told me to be suspicious, but my instincts had always been kinda stupid, so I tried to ignore that. "Hey, Ber!" I called as I set my backpack down beside the kitchen table and pulled out my physics homework. "Whatcha making?"

"Meatballs," he replied in an inflectionless tone that belonged to boring phrases like 'board meeting' or 'important information'. But that was typical with deadpan people like Berwald, so the lack of tearful wavering was more relieving than anything else. What had brought about this change? What could it mean?

"So…" I drawled as I began to work on my homework, "how was your day?"

He shrugged. "Not bad."

"Oh, really?" I shot back just a bit too quickly, and the totally accidental and totally suspicious sass in my tone made my brother turn his attention away from his cooking and toward me, one eyebrow raised. His hands were crossed over his chest, and I noticed he was wearing a hilariously feminine pink, lacy apron.

I might have laughed had he not been on to me. "Yeah, it was fine. Why d'you ask?"

"Berwald, you're cooking," I said, as if cooking was some inane task that only lunatics took part in. Clearly, this wasn't the case, but it was still pretty surprising, given his isolationism as of late. "Like, without me dragging you away from the window so we can have something other than takeout for once. Are you… okay? Are you hiding Tino somewhere?"

"You'd be able to smell him if he was hiding somewhere." An astute observation, one I'd kinda forgotten about.

"Well, what is it, then? Suddenly, your soulmate bond is broken?" A morbid thought entered my mind, and I had to ask because curiosity got the best of me. "Oh my god, your bond's not broken, is it?"

"I'd have to kill him 'f I wanted t'break th'bond. Which I didn't," he said. "I just went t'Lu f'r some help."

Lu? Who was- ah _fuck_ , no. "Lukas?! I thought I trusted you, bro! You don't just run off doing magic shit with the guy who put me under a love spell?"

"Why not?" Ber asked. It was a fair question, but unwelcome when I was still seething. "He clearly knows his magic shit."

"Not as well as Arthur does! Why didn't you just ask him?"

"Just seemed like a better choice than Arthur. None o' your business, really." He paused, then asked, "Are you okay? Y'seem a bit on edge."

"What? Nah, I'm fine," I snarled sarcastically. "My brother just decided that this- this relationship with Lukas, is more important than your soulmate!"

"Th'fuck are you talking about?

"Had it really been too painful, you would've just talked to Arthur. What shit are you trying to pull?" I demanded in white-knuckled anger. "Ya got a crush on Lukas or something?"

"Mat, We barely know each other."

"Then when did you start to prioritize him over your soulmate?"

"Mat, I don't understand wha-"

"No, I think you do understand!" I yelled over top of him, unwilling to hear any further dissent. "You just picked Lukas over your own fucking pack, and you've just completely moved past Tino in less than a day. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"'S not that simple," Berwald insisted in earnest, trying his best not to be patronizing. It didn't work. He sounded just as patronizing as he always did.

"It never is," I sighed. With that, I smacked my physics book shut and got up to leave. "Call me down when dinner's ready."

* * *

It was damned cold that night, by my standards—by Ber's standards, this was probably sweatshirt weather, and Tino probably would've worn a t-shirt in this. For Minnesota, forty degrees Fahrenheit in October wasn't so uncommon, but that didn't keep me from shivering within my coat.

Jan had told me to meet him by 28th street, where many of the killings had taken place. Honestly, the crime rates were already so high on 28th that I was surprised they'd noticed anything out of the ordinary to begin with. Maybe there was something to this vampire theory after all.

Of course, I was fifteen minutes late, and Jan glanced at his watch before telling me as much. "We want to catch our killer before he kills, so we'll have to be quick," he chided before I could even greet him. "Next time, show up on time, please."

"Yeah, but if we catch the vamp, there won't be a next time, right?" I dodged with an innocent smile (though, in this lighting, he probably couldn't tell the difference between an innocent smile and a malevolent leer).

He scoffed at me. "Knowing your nose, it'll probably take a few tries to find him. Hell, I don't even know if you can smell vampires out well enough to catch him yet."

I had no good comebacks, so I changed tactics. "You keep calling them a 'he' like you know who it is."

Jan looked at me warily, taking a languid drag from his pipe. "I have my suspicions," he said through thick smog that smelled of tobacco.

Well, that left one person. "Vladimir?"

"No shit," he sneered. "Nobody's seen him since this started. He's probably on a rampage."

"Rampage?" I queried. The term was unfamiliar, but it sounded somewhat similar to werewolf rages. If these were anything like rages, then this was a pretty fucking dangerous mission.

"Oh, I forgot that you don't know shit about vampires," he sassed back haughtily, always willing to take the role of the wise leader of the mission. "If a vamp goes too long without blood, or gets provoked somehow, they sometimes go on killing sprees."

I cringed. "Gross."

"I guess. The episodes tend to only last a week or two though," he elaborated, "so something this long-running could be premeditated. Either way, there's gotta be something up. This isn't like him."

Vladimir? I wouldn't have put it past him, or any other fucking mosquito on the planet. "He's a vampire; they're all the same."

"Might as well be saying 'you're a werewolf; they're all the same'," Jan pointed out with a small smile. He was sort of amused by supernatural folk like me, and the various divisions between us.

Werewolves, for instance, were just as hated by other creatures as they were by humans. Most sorcerers thought of our kind as unintelligent meatheads, vampires tended to call us 'dogs', and most others refused to even interact with us. Other than Arthur, all of my friends were human, and only Jan and his little brother knew my identity. Not even Emma knew that I was a wolf, mainly because she was so naïve about magic shit to begin with. She thought her brothers' vampire hunting was silly.

"Fuck you," I replied without any bite.

He ruffled a hand through my hair (no homo though), and teased me, saying, "you know I'm right."

"Uh huh, yeah, sure." We were silent for a moment, and I figured it was probably time to get shit done. "Anyway, I think I've gotten into enough fights with him that I probably have his scent memorized by now. Want me to try and find him?"

"Why not? It's our only lead."

"Alright!" And with that, we walked for about half a mile before my nose caught wind of something in the air… eh? Y'know, because wind, and the air…

Never mind.

I cleared my throat. "I think I've got something."

"Where's it coming from?"

"That way. It's just a bit further down."

"Sweet."

It was only three more blocks before I could pinpoint the exact location.

"He's in that alleyway up ahead. It…." Another scent became quite apparent, and I nearly choked on my spit. "Oh my god."

"What?" Jan implored, noting my sudden unease. "What is it?"

"Human blood," I whispered, as if saying it too loudly would make me break. "Lots of human blood. Fucking shit, I could puke."

Believe it or not, I actually got really nervous around blood, a complex I'd developed right when I'd started turning during the full moon. After nights spent wreaking havoc in wolf form, I would sometimes wake up covered in blood. As a little kid, that was more than enough to scare the shit out of me. By that point, I became queasy at even the smell of blood, and _so much_ in one place was disturbing.

Jan didn't quite get it, but he gave me a consolatory pat on the shoulder before he continued on toward the alleyway. "Please don't. Let's go."

I followed, albeit reluctantly, lagging behind and trying my best to breathe through my mouth. Now was not the time to get overwhelmed; I had a vampire to capture.

Sure enough, Vlad was crouched down in the alley, wearing a blood-stained (more like blood-fucking- _dyed_ ) gray hoodie, staring dazedly at what was clearly a dead corpse.

The look in his eyes was undoubtedly one of bloodlust. I had seen a thirsty vampire before, and I recognized the hungry eyes and vicious fangs right away.

Blood was splattered everywhere, far too much spilled for someone to survive.

Jan seemed almost as shocked as I was. "Vlad, what the fuck?"

Vladimir's head jolted up, expression frenzied, like a stray caught by the dog catcher. "I can explain!" he insisted frantically, dropping the pasty, white corpse and backing up against the brick wall lining the alley.

He looked like hell, which, coincidentally, was exactly where he was headed once we slayed him. From the looks (and the smell) of it, he hadn't bathed in weeks— a new low, even for him. Most of the time, he could pass normal boy, but even a typical nonbeliever could tell in this state that he was anything but human. His whole body shook; I could practically see the adrenaline coursing through his veins. One bloodied (oh god, so much blood) finger involuntarily made its way to his unkempt hair, twirling a greasy lock around and around as if it would provide him solace.

The scum.

"Is there really anything to explain?" Jan shot back, unsheathing a wooden stake he kept in his coat pockets for emergencies. "You've got your hands all over a bloody corpse."

His words resonated in my skull, and I chanced another look at the body, whose eyes and mouth were both wide open as if she were caught in the middle of a scream. I couldn't tell where Vlad had bitten because the wound had already healed by then, but either way, the blood was everywhere, caking in her hair and clothing and oozing out onto the pavement. The air smelled metallic and heady and putrid, rotting flesh reaching the surface and making me gag.

"Shit, shit, shit…" I gasped as the bile began to cling to my throat.

"What?" Vlad asked, caught off guard by the way I suddenly clutched my stomach and fell to my knees. Too bad, I wouldn't want to inconvenience a motherfucking murderer, now would I?

"Mat, are you okay?" Jan fixed his eyes on the vampire and snarled, "this is your fault, isn't it?"

"My fault!" He gaped, offended, as I gagged again. "How the hell is this my fault? Look, bro, this isn't what it looks like. Just calm down. You look like you're gonna-"

And with that, the delicious Swedish meatballs and everything else I'd had for dinner were emptied out in a putrid smorgasbord onto the concrete, the sulfurous orange goo mixing with the drying blood from the very same corpse that Vladimir had been holding in his arms. It was such a delightful sight, paired with such a delightful smell, that even Vlad plugged his nose as he finally finished his sentence: "… Throw up."

 **A/N: Ooh okay, so I kinda got temporarily dragged into Haikyuu! hell, so this got delayed a bit. That, and switching perspectives was harder than expected. I hope you liked my Matthias though, I tried to make him entertaining! Anyway, a guest reviewer asked about POV, or rather, a guest reviewer demanded I switch back to Nor's POV after this. As of now, I've got Five Acts: Lu, Mat, Emil, Lu, Mat. This is subject to change depending on how things work out, but for now, that's the pattern I'm going in. Believe me, this isn't the last you'll see of Lu. Thank you all for the reviews/follows/faves, and I'll see you hopefully soon!**


	8. Her

Werewolf noses are unbelievably sharp, so naturally, the smell of vomit mixed with both blood and

dead human flesh made me gag all over again. My stomach had been emptied by this point, so I simply dry-heaved for a few minutes before I was finally reduced to a meager coughing fit, tears streaming down my face. "Fuck… this… shit…" I managed to rasp in the midst of my hacking as my nose started to adjust, and my upper digestive tract decided to cease its protests against the appalling gore.

Both the mindless killer and the noble slayer remained speechless for a moment, reeling at the scene I'd caused.

Vladimir was the first to regain his composure. "Serves you right getting so close, _werewolf_. If you don't like blood, stay away."

At this point, I attempted standing upright to assert my dominance (because, y'know, werewolf), but my knees buckled, so I settled for leaning casually against the wall bordering the alleyway. "Serves _me_ right?" I sassed back as venomously as I could manage. "I'm not the one who's been killing people to drink their blood."

"Well, had you been listening, you'd know that I haven't been killing people!"

So, uh… yeah, he actually said that. While he was holding a cadaver. That happened.

"How d'you explain the dead fucking body then?" Jan demanded as he grabbed the vamp's shirt and lifted him up to eye-level (which was high, because Jan was tall), aiming his wooden stake at Vladimir's chest. "Is that not a human?"

"No!" Vlad cried.

Jan and I both gave him confused and suspicious glares, and finally the bloodsucker registered exactly what he'd said. "I mean, yeah, she's human," he amended, "but I didn't kill her! I'm trying to find out who did!"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, that's not a flimsy excuse."

"Look, just let me explain myself."

Both Jan and I were very impatient and cantankerous people under pressure, reluctant to give way to even reasonable discussion, but neither of us spoke up. I figured it was probably because we wanted to know exactly who committed the crimes before we executed our suspect, but the fact that I was still a bit queasy from the blood probably played a significant role.

The local murderer continued: "It was about six weeks ago, and it's probably the weirdest thing that's happened to me since I turned. Some random guy cornered me and did some creepy voodoo shit or something. He didn't even touch me, but I couldn't move at all. He told me he needed my blood, and when I said no, he gave me a threat I couldn't dare to risk."

"And that was?" Jan queried, briefly forgetting that this could all very well be a load of bullshit.

"He threatened to kidnap me and force me to kill Nikolay." For reference, Nikolay is Vlad's soulmate, another goddamned vampire, though he was at least a bit more polite than Vladimir.

I had to keep myself from gasping. His story struck a chord in me, and I didn't want to remember any similar experiences I'd had.

More on that later.

That one remark so clearly legitimized his story that I had to stick up for the vampire (an act you will never see me repeat). "Jan, this doesn't sound like something he could just make up."

Jan furrowed his brow. "You're right. Keep going, Vlad."

So he did. "Well, not much happened after that. I asked him why he wanted my blood so badly, and he said he needed a newborn vampire for his own purposes. I told him that newborns are fucking insane, I promise! Trust me, it's only been ten years since _I_ was a newborn, I get how stupid this is. He didn't listen though; he just took out his syringe and filled it with blood." Vladimir paused for a moment, running two fingers over the delicate-looking skin of his neck and fiddling with the light brown hair that hung there. "After I started seeing the reports in the papers, it didn't take long for me to make the connection. My newborn's out there. They're practically my baby brother or sister. I need to find them."

The look in his eyes was frantic and it reminded me of myself right after Tino had been kidnapped. For once, I could see the similarity between a vampire's coven and a werewolf's pack—both were connected by inseverable bonds that made separation maddening. I could only imagine what it would be like to _know_ I had a family member, but not have the ability to match the connection with a face, a name, a personality, _something_. Just the thought drove me insane.

Gee, it was almost like vampires were people too.

"Please," Vlad begged, "will you help me find them? I've barely seen Niko in weeks, and he's starting to get worried. I need this over quickly."

Finally, Jan let out an exhausted sigh. "Okay. We can help. But only if you promise to keep this newborn under control. I don't want to have to stake any killers."

"Oh, c'mon, Jan. You love hunting vampires," I retorted, motioning toward the stake that he was still brandishing.

"Yeah, but killing is… morbid. Too much blood," said the vampire slayer, with far too little irony not to be absolutely hilarious.

My stomach, however, was inclined to agree: blood is gross.

* * *

Later that night, after I'd already gone home and fallen asleep, I was walking home (what?) from a place (where?), when suddenly, I stopped walking. Whoa. Crazy. To be honest, it really wasn't my choice to stop walking. Actually, some kinda short but super fucking strong guy pinned me to the fence lining the sidewalk, which made it pretty hard to keep walking.

The top half of his face was concealed by a black hoodie, drawn over his eyes, but I could still see his lips, trembling with either fear or rage. Brown hair poked out from under the hood and hung at his jaw, oily and unkempt.

Everything about him seemed familiar, but I didn't know why.

"Hello, dog," he greeted in heavily accented English. In this particular context, the word 'dog' was a derogatory term used by sorcerers who didn't think werewolves were entirely human. This meant two things: one, he knew I was a werewolf; and two, he was discriminatory against such creatures. Clearly, we were already off to a bad start.

I made no effort to smooth things over. "What the fuck do you want?"

He chanced a nervous grin ( _why's he so nervous, if he has the upper hand?_ ), and continued on. "Your kind has stolen something of my boss' and we intend to exact payment."

"My kind?" I snarled. Typically, I was pretty polite with strangers, but I didn't tolerate werewolf haters. They deserved all of my snarkiness. "So, pretty much, some idiot werewolf did something stupid, and now you're blaming me?"

This was more than enough for him to recover his confidence.

He snorted, like an ugly pig. He was an ugly pig. A really ugly pig. A really super ugly pig that I wanted to punch in the face. "Your species isn't deserving of any such respect, don't flatter yourself," he said with the leer of a really super ugly pig that I wanted to punch in the face.

I deadpanned. "You're insane."

"Perhaps I am."

His grin was terrifying, but I refused to waver. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you," he replied, all matter-of-fact like emotion was entirely removed from this affair. "But, I'm afraid I'll have to murder you if you don't kill your soulmate."

"Bro, I don't even know my soulmate." _I don't even have a soulmate._

The monster read my mind. "And you never will, because you got rid of her. Now she's forced to live a life worse than death: one without love."

In an instant, all my memories of this man were released from the murky depths of my brain. How could I have forgotten? I let out an animalistic growl, one that he probably noted in his long list of reasons why werewolves weren't really people. I remembered him like I remembered my own brother's face. This was the bastard who'd taken everything from me.

He was the very same bastard who'd given me reason to believe every word of Vladimir's crazy story (see, I told you I'd give you more later). This was the soulmate thief.

"That's a sacrifice I had to make because of you!" I exclaimed, and had I not been pinned, I would have gone for his throat. Honestly, werewolves had insane super strength, how the hell was he holding me down?

But, he just laughed at my anger, grew more cocky in light of my rage. "Your breed deserves tragedy," he said, and what I wouldn't have given in that moment to smack that nasty grin off his face.

"Are you even listening to the words coming out of your mouth? You've completely lost it, I swear to god."

"And she'll go just as mad as I am, now that you've driven her away," he shot back, aiming right for my heart and hitting directly on point. "Maybe you should just kill her instead, put her out of her misery."

"Matthias!" someone called, as if on cue. I recognized the voice, and as I turned, I realized exactly who this was.

A woman, with platinum blonde hair, long and graceful limbs, and a voice as tempestuous and strong as the sea on a stormy night. "Oh my god," I croaked, because my voice wouldn't work properly. It was _her_ —the girl I would never meet.

"Kill her," the man sneered before disappearing entirely, leaving me alone with my angel.

There were tears streaming down her cheeks. "Why did you choose not to see me? I didn't ask for this." She walked right up to me, her nose inches from my own, and placed a hand on my cheek. "I wanted you, so much."

"You're just saying that," I reassured her, completely genuine. "I don't deserve love, do you realize that? I'm mean, and selfish, and violent, and-"

"My soulmate," the girl finished for me. "You're my soulmate, idiot. If you don't want me, go ahead and take me out."

"Alright," I replied automatically and without even a hint of sarcasm. I knew the words were frightening and murderous, but I had no volition, no way of stopping myself from doing anything I didn't wish to do.

What happened next would haunt me for months. As the girl started to cry out, I wrapped my hands around her neck, bringing her panicked screams to a sudden halt. Finally, in the last moments of her life, I saw deep blue eyes filled with panic. They would have been beautiful had she not been so close to death, blown wide with panic, revealing scarlet veins in the whites, her pupils contracting into naught but pinpricks. Fear, insanity, and hatred, all caused by me.

Then, suddenly, the terror was gone. Her face went slack, and so did the rest of her body.

I regained control over myself and immediately let her go.

She fell to the ground, dead.

I felt someone shove me on the shoulder, and suddenly, I was in my room, lights out, yelling incoherently as tears streamed down my face. Berwald sat next to me, looking like he'd seen a ghost (or perhaps a werewolf trapped in the throes of his own nightmare).

Well fuck.

"Y'okay?" Ber asked, last night's brawl completely forgotten in his panic. His fear was justified; nightmares were a rarity in this house, especially from me. For fuck's sake, I was supposed to be the confident big brother—more primitive werewolves would call me the Alpha, though Berwald would probably slap me if I started using that terminology—I couldn't just fall apart like this.

"Just fine," I replied, but the waver in my voice betrayed me. Even now, after the dream had passed, I was still crying like a loser.

My brother rolled his eyes. "'M not blind, Mat. What happened while y'were asleep?"

 _Oh, nothing much, just run-of-the-mill murder of one's own soulmate._ "It was kind of a dark dream."

"No shit," he scoffed as he suppressed a yawn.

I glanced at the clock: quarter to four. God, no wonder he was so tired. "Look, I-"

"Don't wanna talk about it?" he predicted, bleary-eyed but still astute. "Bro, y'dont have anyone to talk to except me. At some point, you're gonna have t'get over yourself and face it: y'have feelings, just like th'rest of us."

Sometimes, the temptation to punch my brother in the face was just a bit too strong. Lucky for him, I didn't have the energy at this hour, so I settled for a snarled, "go fuck yourself." The adrenaline coursing through my veins from the nightmare was finally beginning to subside and I found myself growing tired and grouchy.

"Can I not?" Berwald chose sass. It was super effective!

"Dear lord, thanks for giving me that mental image. Remind me never to insult you again."

"Totally takin' you up on that." He took off his glasses (probably thrown on in haste after hearing me yell), and cleaned the dust off the lenses on his tee. "Y'still gotta tell me what's up though."

"Fine," I relented, because it was late and there was school the next day. "Lately, I've been having dreams about _her_."

"Her?"

"My soulmate," I elaborated. "The dreams have typically been pretty chill, but this one was completely different."

Berwald hummed in anticipation, urging me to get to the rough part.

I bit my lip, unnerved once more by the end of my nightmare. "I killed her, Ber. That creepy guy from last month—he cornered me like in real life, but he told me about how I abandoned her, how I was a monster, how- you get it. And then she showed up and said she'd rather die than not be bonded to me, and I… Shit."

"What?" If he was perturbed by this, he didn't show it.

"I killed her!" I cried, desperate for some sort of acknowledgement that yes, in fact I was secretly psychotic. "I strangled her. It all happened so fast, and then she was dead, and the look in her eyes was just so _depressing_ and I-"

My brother cut me off, finally letting some concern etch its way into his deep, dark voice. "T'was just a dream."

A dream? No, this was no dream, but a reflection of the reality to which I'd subjected myself. Perhaps this was so scarring to me in retrospect because I'd done nothing to stop it. Not once had I tried to confront this man. Without a thought, I had sacrificed my chance for true love (and my soulmate's, by association), for one fucking lowlife's hollow threats. The dream meant nothing; my cowardice meant everything. "Doesn't make me any less of a monster."

He shook his head. "Y'did what you had t'do."

Only now did I notice that I was clutching the bedsheets like a lifeline and that my breathing rate was near hyperventilation. Not that I cared, but it was just another testament to how far gone I was. "There was probably another way. I acted too rashly, and now she's gone forever. Even if I do meet her, she'll probably hate me."

"Don't say that," Berwald admonished, striking me upside the head, his hand just heavy enough to sting without leaving a mark. "'F'you explain it to her, she'll understand."

I let out a melodramatic hiss of pain, "ow, that hurt!" My breathing steadied ever so slightly, but my death-grip remained, well, _deathly_.

But, Berwald was smart enough to distract me (or rather, I was stupid enough to be susceptible to simple distractions). "Mat, what'd she look like?"

"Gorgeous," I shot back earnestly. " Long, blonde hair, tall, strong, and her eyes were so striking. Blue, but so dark they were almost purple… Although, we don't even know if that's what she looks like."

"Sure we do. Your instincts already know what t'look for, that's been proven." He was referring to a study done by some particularly scholarly sorcerers who focused on the arcane magic surrounding soulmates. Personally, I equated the term 'scholarly sorcery' with 'fucking bullshit', but that was just a matter of opinion. "Maybe it's a sign."

Like I said, fucking bullshit. "A sign that what? My soulmate is beautiful and I'm missing out?"

"Maybe your mind recognized her in real life and it's trying to tell you what t'find," he explained, which…. Okay, it seemed fair enough, supposing that this wasn't all a load of bull.

This opened up a whole new slew of questions that I didn't have time to ask. I settled for: "could that mean that I've already met her?"

Berwald shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Well, shit," I replied, finally letting out a short laugh, "why hasn't she smacked me upside the head yet?"

"Soulmates can't do that. It's against their conscience." As if I needed to be told that.

"True," I conceded, "but really, she could at least shoot me a text or something, like _'yo, Mat, you're really handsome and I wanted to let you know that I'm your soulmate. Wanna make out sometime?'_ I probably wouldn't turn that down."

He blinked. "Y'have a girlfriend."

I sighed. "Yeah, I guess I do."

No one had anything else to say on the matter, so we just sat in the dark.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Berwald's eyes seemed to clear up a bit, and he said, "oh yeah, we need t'meet with Arthur t'morrow. Gotta come up with a plan since you kicked Lu out."

"Great, I was kinda expecting that already. Why are you telling me now, when you could wait until morning?" To be honest, had he waited even a moment longer, I would've just bid him goodnight and gone back to sleep.

If my brother noticed my agitation, he didn't show it. "Think you should tell 'im about the guy who threatened you."

Uh, how about no? "Are you shitting me? We don't even know if it's connected yet."

"He's a sorcerer that targets werewolves. Can't hide information from Arthur, even if it seems unrelated."

A piece of advice: do not argue with someone on the debate team. Your ass will get whooped.

Course, that didn't stop me. "So you want me to tell him that I'm a monster, on the off-chance that it helps save Tino?"

Most people know that my kid brother has a killer glare, but they haven't seen shit until they witness an actual stinkeye from him. For real, it's damn terrifying. " _I want you t'be willing to give your own fucking life if it'll bring Tino back,_ " he growled, letting his rage mask the fact that he was close to tears.

To think that just yesterday, I had accused him of not loving his own soulmate. "God," I groaned, "I'm a piece of shit."

Ber shook his head. "No, you're not—you're just a self-centered asshole."

 _Gee, thanks. That makes everything better._

"Y'really gotta start thinking of other people before worrying about your ego. My soulmate's life is at stake here. Even if this is unrelated, it's a lead, and it'll help us nail down a suspect."

"Hey! My ego is very important," I replied with false mirth, because I knew those words would be churning in my head for days if I didn't deflect them with my dense skull right away.

"It's also about th'size of a walnut," he retorted, stifling a smirk. "Don't care much about protecting it until you get over your superiority complex."

I deadpanned, "has anyone ever told you that you're a dick?"

Berwald's response was near-automatic. "You're a bigger dick."

Ooh. Burn.

Well, he wasn't the only one who could poorly insult people: "nah, but I definitely have a bigger dick, am I right?"

"Please don't do this." Berwald shuddered, gripping the ridge of his nose as if it would soothe the in-coming headache he was sure to experience. "We're not measuring our penises again just to prove that I'm bigger than you."

This would probably have been the third time this had happened, and though I knew I was fighting a losing battle, I was determined to distract myself from my own depressing thoughts. "You're not though!" I whined.

"Sorry, but I am. We've been through this."

"Nah."

"Yes."

"Nope!"

"Yes!"

"That's it, I'm getting the ruler!" I yelled in mock offense, figuring that if I argued any further, he'd actually humor me. The lingering self-doubt wasn't gone yet, so I really needed to stall time with something stupid, like, say, a dick-measuring contest to determine which brute had the most testosterone.

My little bro didn't seem to get it. "It's four in the morning, Mat."

With that, I let out a low laugh, and rushed to my desk to retrieve the meter stick (just in case, y'know, we needed a full meter to measure with). "Then we better do this quickly!"

* * *

Needless to say, neither of us got any sleep that night, and we both just wanted to get the next meeting out of the way, so we went to Arthur's place before school for breakfast. Luckily, his mother was very kind; she immediately welcomed us into her house unannounced. Although, I suppose, if I had five children (all either attending the local university or public school), two more kids in the house really couldn't be such a big deal. Also, porridge is easier to prepare with magic.

After she served us some porridge she'd prepared en masse, Mrs. Kirkland excused herself to go wake up Arthur.

Five minutes later, Arthur stumbled down the stairs in flannel pajama pants and a Union Jack tee-shirt, his hair even more disheveled than it usually was. He staggered to the table, slumped down onto his chair, and immediately demanded his mother make him tea.

That took five more minutes, in which I explained my story to him.

"And you decided not to tell me this because…?" he replied as he grabbed his mug of Earl Grey, leveling me with his typical Sherlock glare.

Of course, I hadn't expected any less. "Like I said at the beginning of this mess, it's really none of your damn business."

He took an angry sip of tea, then slammed the cup down onto the table. "It _is_ my business, if you ever want to find Tino! What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

"This is exactly why I didn't want to tell him, Ber," I murmured, eating another spoonful of porridge

But my brother wasn't anything if not reasonable. "Arthur, I already chewed 'im out," he said, effectively defusing that hydrogen bomb before it detonated. "What can y'do to locate this person now?"

Arthur considered this for a moment, then his determined Sherlock glare returned, and he launched into a newly-formed plan. "Sorcerers leave a trace of magic behind—sort of like a fingerprint. It used to mark territories, but now it's just a convenient way to find others. Where did you see him? If I can get ahold of his magical signature, I might be able to conjure his location."

"28th Avenue, by the bowling alley." I supplied.

This bothered him. "God, why would you go there? That place is crawling with gangsters and lowlifes."

His guess was as good as mine. "I don't even remember. Just drawn to it, I think."

"Summoning spell…" he whispered in reply, which actually explained a lot. "How fascinating. I would bet it was a werewolf summoning spell."

"Why?"

"He called you a dog and said he had that his group had some quarrel with your kind."

I rolled my eyes. "Every sorcerer and their uncle has a quarrel with my kind, Arthur."

"That only proves my point. If this person wanted to target werewolves, he would use a werewolf-summoning spell." Okay, yeah, that seemed fair. "We should go back to the site of Tino's kidnapping to see if there's any trace of a similar spell. If so, that could mean that you two were both targeted by the same person. Not only that, it could also mean that Berwald is in danger."

Ber suddenly perked up (not that he'd been spacing before). "What?"

"He wanted Matthias to kill his soulmate, right?" Arthur asked, and we both nodded. "Who's to say they're not trying to get Tino to do the same?"

"Shit." Everything suddenly seemed to be piecing itself together, and I didn't like the picture this puzzle was revealing.

How many lives was I ruining at this point?

Tino was a given; I couldn't even keep him from being kidnapped and tortured.

Berwald too, since he was Tino's soulmate.

Oh, right, while we're at it, I'd kinda fucked up my own soulmate as well. According to Berwald and my nightmare, she already knew who I was, which killed me a bit inside.

Emma would be ruined whenever I was forced to dump her. God, she didn't sign up for this shit (except she did, when she agreed to go out with me).

Lukas' name popped into my head. Honestly, he wrought that upon himself, but I couldn't help but feel that I was at fault somehow.

That made five. Five people better off if I were dead.

Have I ever told you how awesome I am?

 **A/N: Hello, yes, I have returned and all that good stuff. So, I've got my SAT in two weeks, then my ACT just a bit after that, along with two APs over the next month, and three final exams at the end of June. I, uh... We'll see what happens. Sometimes I write more when I'm stressed, sometimes I write less. It all depends on mood. Isn't being a junior in high school great? Also, in case you missed it: yes, that scene was a dream based on an encounter with an unknown antagonist. Any guesses as to who he is? Hehehehe...**


	9. Predator

Fortunately, after that meeting, I had no other obligations.

Lunch was spent in comfortable silence, sitting next to Emma with our fingers intertwined. I neither spoke nor looked at her; if I let my thoughts wander I could almost imagine that it was my angel's delicate hand resting gently in my own. My angel, with her long, blonde hair, and her small, graceful smile…. For the first time in what felt like months, I was at peace.

"Matthias Andersen, are you even listening to me?" Emma demanded sharply, pulling me out of my daydreams.

I gave her a guilty smile and shrugged,. "sSorry, I was spacing. What were you talking about?"

"Never mind," she huffed, withdrawing her hand and resting it in her lap, "it wasn't important anyway."

"Really, Em, please tell me what you were talking about," I begged with a teasing pout. Perhaps, if I played it off as a joke, she would be less bothered by me.

She drew in a harsh breath. "It's nothing, really. You've just been so distant, lately. I feel like you've been spending more time with Jan than me!"

In the recesses of my brain, I heard Berwald's voice mutter, ' _y'really_ gotta start thinking of other people before worrying about your own ego'. Last night's conversation was hazy from lack of sleep, but it still haunted my mind. My brother's words, though painful, were shockingly accurate. "Babe, you know how these things are," I began as I ran my hands up and down her back, trying not to think about how much I sounded like a fuckboy. "Jan is obsessed with that vampire shit, and this is the easiest way to get him to rest easy again."

"I know… but it doesn't explain why you've been pulling away from me so much lately."

"Pulling away?" I attempted a small laugh, but when it left my lips, it became dark and humorless. "Emma, please."

"Matthias, _please_!" Emma repeated with a scowl that was startlingly foreign on her pretty face. There was a stilted silence for a good two minutes or so, then her eyes lit up with a small but significant hope. "Okay, how about this? Homecoming is tomorrow and I bought tickets, like, two weeks ago. Please go with me; I promise it'll be fun! You love dances!"

I nodded, not daring to reply negatively. Her resolve had clearly worn down to a single thread and this was likely my last chance.

Ignoring my brain's pleas to consider the fact that the laws of magic simply didn't allow me a lasting relationship, I smiled. "Yeah, I'm free tomorrow." I wasn't free tomorrow; we were supposed to go to Tino's site of disappearance right after school. "I can meet you right after school and we can spend the whole evening together!"

"Great!" she said, but her face said, "I doubt it!"

It was, however, better than nothing.

* * *

After more than a month of aimless dejection, I wondered if I would ever get used to seeing Berwald cook again. It was sad in a way, seeing him act as he normally did and knowing that without magical intervention, he'd be as depressed as ever. I couldn't comprehend the feelings of separation anxiety he'd felt after Tino was taken, and I probably never would, but the hurt in his eyes still made my heart bleed.

Those feelings were forgotten now—or, at least, trampled underfoot and buried deep inside Ber's mind, to save for a lonely night of tears and regret. He triple-flipped a flapjack (Thursdays were always pancake nights), smirking at the expected perfect landing, then tipped his pan, allowing the pancake to fall onto his plate with the rest of the stack. "Dinner's ready," he announced to the only other person in the house.

Pssh, as if I couldn't gather that much from the way he walked to the table, setting down the plate alongside some raspberry jam and sour cream. "Sweet," I replied as I absentmindedly retrieved some silverware and sat in my usual spot at the head of the table (probably some inert way of exerting dominance, werewolf instincts be damned).

Not that Ber was any better, waiting for me to take my first bite of jam-drenched pancake before taking any food for himself. Usually, these things gave me a sort of rush, a kingly type of feeling, like I was important or something, but tonight it just made me feel like shit.

Biting my lip, I stabbed my fork into the stack of delicious carbs, hard enough that it stuck when I removed my hand, shaky with frustration. Deciding the whole affair was disgusting to begin with, I pushed the whole platter away. "Screw it, I'm not hungry."

My brother raised an eyebrow. "You're always hungry. Somethin' happen at school?"

"Oh nah, everything's just peachy." I scowled. "Just fuming to myself over some stupid shit."

Course, I knew he wouldn't buy that for a second. These days, girl troubles were apparently as important as losing your damn soulmate, or catching a rabid vampire. I was just as selfish for trying to keep Emma as I was for prioritizing other endeavors. "C'mon, Mat. Spill."

"Emma's been on my case about not spending enough time with her," I relented, letting partial truth shine through. The full story was really just more of last night (this morning?), and I was worried things would quickly devolve into a sob fest if I went that route.

"Maybe it's time y'let 'er go," Berwald admonished sagely, as if human emotion was removed from this this entirely. "Y'already know how this ends. Why not call it quits?"

I sighed. "Y'know, I hate you a little bit for that. If I can't be happy with the person I'm supposed to be happy with, why not her?"

"Whatever."

"Anyway, we worked out a solution." I flashed him an impish grin that let him know my relationship had hope yet (even though it likely didn't). "Guess who's going to Homecoming tomorrow night?"

He blinked. "Not you."

"What?" I asked. " Why?"

Honestly, there were myriad reasons why I probably shouldn't have been going to such an event, but Berwald chose the most obvious one: "T'morrow's the full moon."

Dear lord, how could I have forgotten? Arthur, Ber, and I had agreed to meet earlier in the afternoon specifically to avoid this issue! There was no way I could risk people's safety like that—I wasn't that much of an idiot, no matter what my brother said.

"Aw fuck," I moaned mirthfully, pretending this was but a superfluous issue. "I'm totally gonna be in the _dog house_ tomorrow night for this."

Berwald shook his head.

"No?" I asked. " I thought it was pretty good, myself."

"Y'can't pun your way out of this. Either reschedule, or risk her safety," he replied, and as much of a downer as he was, he did have a point.

Had I not been incapable of admitting my own faults, I may have listened. Instead, I rolled my eyes. "Or you could think outside the box for once, Ber! We can't really reschedule Homecoming, anyway. But…" A brilliant idea entered my mind, a foolproof plan that was bound to work.

"But?"

I smiled. "I'm gonna need the emergency watch."

Why yes, we did have an emergency watch. It was a beautiful, designer accessory that was definitely nice to look at, but that's not why it was so important in case of emergency: the entire band was pure silver. Very useful for a couple of werewolves, indeed. My mother had given it to us before she'd gone on sabbatical for the year… then gone abroad for another three….

"'S for emergencies, not dates," Ber contended, unamused by my hare-brained scheming.

"This is an emergency date, Berwald! Work with me here. Silver will prevent me from turning into a wolf."

Unfortunately, he wasn't convinced. "Can also cause third-degree burns 'f it touches skin for more than a few hours." God, what a killjoy, right?

"I only need it for a few hours, anyway!" I retorted. Homecoming was between four and nine-thirty, and the sun didn't even go down until six forty-five, anyway.

"... Fine," he sighed, unwilling to fight this any further. " Just don't expect me to help you with this stupid plan. Fifty bucks says y'get into trouble before the end of th'night."

"Oh, shut up, ya cynical bastard!" I replied, cocky and reckless and ready to implement my stupid plan no matter what he said. "I'll be fine; don't worry about me!"

"Uh huh, sure, okay. Help me with the dishes?"

"Alright."

* * *

The next afternoon was pretty chill and almost boring (at least, in comparison to the other things I'd been doing). Emma and I took a stroll around the park, enjoying the chilly autumn wind and the brightly-colored leaves. I'd been stressed enough lately that I hadn't even noticed them turning, so they were already bright hues of red and gold; not many had fallen yet, but some were already rotting into a crinkly, dead brown.

October 4th. Whatever happened to September?

"Y'know, Mat, it's almost three," Emma said gently, interrupting my musings. "I'm gonna have to get home to put on my dress at some point."

I looked down at my watch out of force of habit, although I knew that it really wouldn't give much away. The emergency watch actually didn't tell the hour, only the cycles of the moon and the time of year (useful things for a werewolf or a werewolf hunter to know). But, I couldn't tell Emma that I had an enchanted watch, so I just nodded my head and said, "yeah, you're right. Let's get you back to your house."

Within ten minutes, we were at the Mulder household, and Jan had snatched me while Emma got ready.

"The fuck are you thinking?" Jan hissed through gritted teeth. "It's the-"

"Full moon! I know, dude. That's why I've got this!" I raised my wrist to show off the lovely piece of jewelry that could potentially burn my hand right off my arm.

Jan raised an eyebrow. "You'd risk everyone's health and safety just because you don't want to tell my sister you're a werewolf?"

"Ummm… yes?"

"Idiot," he snorted as he shook his head.

I rolled my eyes, "is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"No," Jan replied, "it's not. We're gonna need to recruit a sorcerer to the vampire hunt, and I've been told that I needed to warn you."

Oh, that didn't sound like bad news. "Why?"

Jan seemed to read the suspicion in my tone, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair (though he showed no signs of backing off). "Well, I asked Arthur first, but he's too busy with your little mission, so we called in Vlad's first choice."

"Please don't say it," I blurted, because I knew what was coming. There were only two sorcerers in our school (two more than the average school, to be honest), which meant…

"Ever heard of a Lukas Jensen?"

My shoulders slumped, and I moaned a melodramatic, "fuck you."

"Sorry, Mat, but if you can't handle blood, we'll have to keep you at a distance." He had a point, which only made this worse. " We need someone for close-range hunting who can still use magical means, and since you fired him, well, he's free."

There was no good way to refute that without giving away too much or deciding to quit myself, so I relented. "Fine, but I'm not talking to him."

"That's fair. It's not like you enjoy Vlad's company, anyway. One more enemy shouldn't hurt."

Yeah fucking right. No, I didn't like Vladimir much, but that was natural instinct. Lukas was a genuine asshole, and I couldn't just write off our, uh, _friction_ , as a simple werewolf quirk. "Yeah, yeah. Okay, whatever. Say, ya think I could use your room for a minute? My suit's in the car and I still need to get ready (and take out the steel bracelet I've got on under the watch."

"Why didn't you just wait until now to put it on?" Jan queried with a confused scowl. "You were already gonna change clothes anyway. You wouldn't've needed to worry about covering it up all afternoon."

Well, shit. Why hadn't I thought of that earlier? My wrist had been uncomfortable all day, and it was only going to get worse, now that I was taking off the protective bottom band. "I'm stressed, okay? Don't question my life choices!"

"Fine. Better hurry, though. Emma gets ready pretty quick for a girl."

"True that," I muttered before running out to the car to get my things.

* * *

I wasn't exactly a dancing expert, but I could at least get by without a complaint from my partner.

Emma's long, red dress billowed around her legs as I spun her, my hands a bit stiff but sufficient. As she slowed, I wrapped my arms around her waist, bringing her back to my chest. I could feel her heart beating against mine as she leaned her head into my neck.

Our heartbeats were unaligned, and so was our relationship.

Those thoughts were nipped at the bud, though, as she turned to face me (when had I loosened my grip?), her lips as scarlet as her gown, and her green eyes sparkling in the low lights of the decorated gym. "You're rusty," she said with a simper, a manicured hand landing on my shoulder.

"Dear lord," I sighed mirthfully, "if you're so good at this, why don't you lead?"

"Societal convention, not that either of us really care about that. I can lead if you'd like." I had assumed she was joking until she grasped my right hand, her other arm coming around to rest on my back.

Eh, why not? "What the hell, go for it," I replied.

And so, I found myself being led to the beat of a fast-paced swing number, wondering who the fuck was deejaying this event and where the usual rock songs were.

Not that I was complaining, per se, but something about this felt off, beyond the fact that my girlfriend was leading. The way she looked at me, the longing in her gaze, the bittersweet smile as she taught me how to foxtrot—it wasn't right.

She should've been happy. I was trying to make her happy tonight, so why wasn't she?

That was the moment I realized that we weren't meant to be. No matter how hard I tried, even if neither of us had soulmates anymore, even if our personalities were reasonably complimentary, we could never be happy in this kind of relationship.

I wasn't a dick because I was staying away; I was a dick because I had gotten too close.

The song switched to a slow song, and her pace deccelerated to a gentle sway. Her fingers clasped around my waist, freeing my hands and relinquishing control of the dance. She gave me a gentle kiss on the lips, and I felt sick.

"See? I can lead," Emma said saucily as her head fell onto my chest again.

"Yeah."

I wanted to wrap my arms around her, to kiss my own anxieties away, and keep her close. She had just left herself completely vulnerable to me, willing to take whatever I'd offer, and I desired so much from her.

But I couldn't do it. I placed a hand on her cheek, fiddling with a loose lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes.

Suddenly, her head jerked ever so slightly, as if she'd picked up on something amiss."Mat?"

Oh, no. Surely, she'd noticed something off about me, and decided to chew me out again. I was the one who'd decided to start this relationship, after all, not her.

"Yeah?" I asked, fearing the worst.

"Weren't you wearing a watch earlier?"

"Huh?" Alright, at least she wasn't mad. But, sure enough, my wrist was bare.

Well, that probably wasn't good. I didn't exactly want to turn into a wolf in front of half the school, now did I? I had to remind myself not to panic. It couldn't be too bad, right? I would just find it before sundown, and it'd be just fine, right?

How long did I have, anyway? I glanced up at the clock on the wall—6:24.

Less than half an hour until I turned.

Shit.

"I need to go," I said automatically, eyes blown wide with fear.

She cocked her head, furrowing her eyebrows, perplexed. "What, to find your watch? I can help you!"

The gym was crowded, and it could take a very, very long time to find a watch. I couldn't see it anywhere around me, and we'd already circumnavigated the dance floor more than once. "No, I need to leave."

Emma was too put off to even get mad at me. "Mat, really?"

I pulled her away from me, as if she were a leech eating at my skin. "Go find someone else to dance with. I need to go right now, okay?"

"I don't understand."

"I'll explain later, I promise," I said, and for once, I wasn't just making excuses. If it was time to cut things off, then she at least deserved to know why.

Emma shook her head. "Whatever, Mat. Do what you want."

The last thing I thought to say before I ran was, "I'm sorry."

And as I took one last glance at the gym, she was already dancing with Francis, laughing at something he'd said (likely one of the same lame, generic lines he used on everyone).

I bit my lip, blinking back tears, before I left the school entirely.

* * *

"Hey, Ber! I don't suppose you have a way to get me a change of clothes and maybe a silver bullet within the next eight minutes?" I asked with false serenity, cell phone pressed to my ear with shaky hands. Of course I'd left my school uniform at the Mulder's, that was so incredibly typical of me.

"Are y'fucking kidding me?" Berwald shot back. "Y'told me you had this under control."

Leave it to my little bro to be helpful during emergencies. "I get it, okay? Look, I'm in the woods off of Green Street, about five miles out from the school." See, at least I'd been smart enough to take my car to the woods, right? "What exactly am I supposed to do? I still need to find a good spot to, y'know, not turn into a wolf right near people."

"You're in the woods, right? Y'should be fine for now. Just try not t'kill anyone." Then he hung up, without even saying 'goodbye' or offering words of solace (or perhaps some legitimate help, because I was still within a few hundred yards of civilization, which was way too close for comfort).

And then I was alone again, walking around the woods in a fucking suit, freezing my ass off and trying to remind myself that Berwald was probably also getting ready for his imminent transformation, likely too far away to do much anyhow. I briefly wondered what I'd done to deserve this.

Other than, y'know, go to a dance on the night of a full moon.

"Matthias?" Someone suddenly cried out, shaking me from my depressing thoughts. "I know you're out here; I followed you on bike! Want to give me an explanation, or are you just gonna hide from me?"

I gasped. "Emma?" What the fuck was she doing here?

"You promised you'd explain," she said as she came into view, "and, well, Francis convinced me to confront you tonight rather than tomorrow. He's not as bad as you'd think, actually, and he gives pretty good advice."

Wait, that's what Francis was doing? He was trying to help us figure out our relationship, not steal my girl? Wow, that was actually pretty admirable. Good on him.

Course, that didn't change the fact that the sun was quickly going down, and we were quickly running out of time. "Emma, you need to go. There isn't time for this."

"I'm sure whatever it is can wait just a few minutes until we talk this out." She sounded far more calm and reasonable than I did, way too collected for a life-or-death situation.

I took a deep breath, hoping to calm myself, then continued to spout nonsense, as if that would help. "That's exactly it: just a few minutes, and you could be dead. You should really just leave."

"Dead?" Emma snorted. "You're such a drama queen. For Christ's sake, Mat! Just tell me what's going on, and I'll leave you be."

The trees and the ground were already painted gold from the low-hanging sun, shadows seeming to getting longer by the second. "Can you see the sun?" I asked.

She considered this for a moment, gazing out toward the last rays of light in the sky. "Not very well, it's gonna be dark soon."

"Exactly," I replied with a weak smile, "that's how long we have to talk. Before you see the sun disappear, I want you to run away as fast as you can."

"You're not making any sense," she said, shaking her head. "Why does it matter if the sun goes down? It's a beautiful sunset."

"I doubt you'll believe me."

To my surprise, she actually leveled me with a smile. "Won't know until you try."

"It's some weird shit," I warned, "like your family's vampire obsession or something."

She didn't really seem to take this seriously, not that I was really surprised. "Nothing is as weird as that. Come on, you said you'd explain."

I dodged again, hoping that if I delayed long enough, perhaps she'd leave entirely. "I'm trying to do this in five minutes or less without you thinking I'm psychotic. It's not as easy as it looks."

But, one does not simply dodge Emma Mulder's persuasions. Once she set her mind to something, she would not be overpowered by mere words. "Just say it," she exclaimed, as if it were that simple, "then focus on convincing me."

Well, it wasn't like I had anything better to do.

"Fine," I said after a beat of silence. "Emma, I'm a werewolf."

And there it was, out there in the open like a gaping wound—the full truth that I'd been avoiding for months.

Her response was just as groundbreaking. "Uh, what?"

It was the most eloquent thing I'd heard all evening. Those two words, only one of which had a dictionary definition, made my sudden admission totally worth it, even with just a few minutes left before unavoidable doom.

I tried again, except I made it more confusing this time so she'd understand it better (whoops, didn't mean to do that). "Once the sun goes down, I'll turn into a wolf and try to kill any perceived threat or prey on sight. That includes people. You're gonna have to go as soon as possible."

"Mat, you're…" And there it was: the look I'd been waiting for. She gave me a telling wide-eyed stare, mouth hanging open slightly, at a loss for words. She didn't believe me, and that would likely be her doom. "This is crazy. You know that lycanthropy is a psychological condition, right? You might think that you're a werewolf, but actually-"

"Emma, I'm not crazy," I interrupted, but my tone was panicked enough that it probably only convinced her of my insanity further. "Trust me. My brother's the same way, and so's his boyfriend."

She seemed to at least entertain that much for a minute. "Tino's a werewolf? Wait, is this why he disappeared? I know he was kidnapped."

"Yeah. That's actually why I've been gone so much. We're trying to find a sorcerer; they used magic to-" I cut myself off, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I'm giving you too much information, aren't I?"

Emma nodded. "Kinda, yeah."

I let out a short, awkward laugh, hoping it would ease the tension a bit. It didn't. "Sorry. But um, that's why I've been sneaking around, and, well, I'm sure you've noticed how weird I've been acting."

"That explains a lot (not that I completely believe you yet). You still haven't told me why you've been acting so strange when you are around me, though."

Did she honestly want me to explain the soulmate situation in less than two minutes, when I could already feel the beginning effects of the full moon crawling under my skin? She should have been leaving, this was crazy!

You have to give me credit though: I still tried. "People like us have soulmates, Emma. I got rid of mine, and…" I could feel the corny lines from a romance novel crawling up my throat, but I couldn't stop them before they left my lips. " I feel like I've been using you. You were my way of distracting myself. I wanted someone to convince me that I could still have someone, even if I had someone cast a spell to get rid of the one I was supposed to have."

Never had less concise words been spoken.

"What?"

"Exactly!" I agreed. "We've got, like, a minute and a half, there's no way I'm gonna be able to explain this to you. Why don't you just go?"

In fact, that actually wasn't what she had been referring to. "If you had a soulmate, why would you want to get rid of her?"

"I didn't want to, I just…" My head was clouded with too many thoughts for me to continue. In addition to the stress I'd been under before, my typical pre-transformation stress was setting in, interrupting my panic with more panic. I rubbed my temples, trying to clear my head. "God, I can't even think straight right now. Fuck, Emma, you're not gonna be able to get out of here in time."

"Well, I'm still not sure if I believe you completely,' my girlfriend shot back worriedly. "What happens if you don't turn, and I need to take you to a psychiatric ward or something?"

"What happens if I do turn, and _I try to fucking kill you?_ " I growled in reply, my heart beating double-time.

"Does your brain just go away when you turn?"

What? Nah, what she witnessing right now was my fucking _faking_ my lycanthropy. "Kinda, yeah. You're seeing it start right now. Please go."

Somehow, this wasn't enough for her. "Mat-"

"Leave!" I practically screamed. "Now! Run!"

This seemed to get through to her, and she didn't dare say another word before bolting away.

With what little time I had left, I barely had the presence of mind to remember to take off my suit, which would have cost a fortune to replace if I'd ruined it as a wolf. I kept my boxers and undershirt on in case someone decided to walk by (I wasn't too far off from a hiking trail, and someone could still potentially find me), but the rest of my clothes were hung high on a nearby tree.

As the last stripes of light were enveloped in the shadow from the trees, I wondered where Emma was, and if she'd made it out safely. There really hadn't been much time for her to go…

And then it happened. The sun had fallen behind the horizon, and I saw the moon shine through the twilight, heating my skin until I felt like it was burning, in spite of the autumn chill. My bones and muscles shifted, churning under my skin, which, for its part, was growing fur, and god, I could never get used to this part, no matter how many times I shifted.

It always started in my extremities, my thumbs and first toes retracting into my hand and congealing into a small, vestigial nub with a black claw on the top, the fingers and toes that would make up my paws following suit to a lesser extent. I collapsed to the ground with a hiss of pain, first onto my hands and knees, then to my stomach as the joints around my elbow tore to allow my arms to continue their shift. My legs underwent a similar transformation, but that pain was overshadowed by the feeling of my shoulders being bent and broken and moved into new places. By the time that was done with, I was in enough of a tear-stained and breathless shock that I barely felt the rest of the transformation. My jaw contorted into a muzzle, my ears grew long and pointed and somehow moved a few inches (like I said, in shock, it's always a bit fuzzy), and my senses grew ever sharper and more adept to the woods. I could hear every dying autumn insect, every foraging squirrel, every rustle of the wind through the trees. The scent of oncoming rain and rotting leaves came into focus. Gray fur started to crop up at the base of my neck, spreading up my head and down my back, where my spine cracked and hunched over like a hag's. A tail grew as the rest of my body condensed, and the fur spread out in every direction around it, over my newly-formed legs, across my chest, over to my arms and shoulders.

I let out one last shiver as some final bones snapped into place and repaired themselves, then let out an instinctive howl that invigorated me and almost made such an excruciating transformation worth it.

Then I was content, thoughts narrowed into just a few simple tasks.

Run. I wanted to run. I wanted to feel the ground moving under my feet, see the trees around me; maybe, I'd find a squirrel and chase it around for a while.

Maybe I'd even eat it, who knew? I wasn't really hungry at the moment, but I might be soon, so it was a reasonable thought process.

Honestly, my memory of the next five minutes is kinda shaky, but I vividly remember a shrill scream followed by something running out from behind me.

I turned, growling. What was it? Was it an attacker?

The figure in front of me let out another cry, then ran away from me, afraid.

Prey. This was _prey_.

I ran after it in hot pursuit, unable to think of anything but how to take down and kill the prey. Instinct kicked in, and I didn't have the presence of mind (or the desire) to stop.

This was a human, and humans weren't nearly so fast as wolves, so it didn't take long for me to catch up and corner them to a tree. I let out another growl, letting my prey know that I was willing to attack if they retaliated.

Actually, that seemed to snap them out of their shock, and they picked up a loose tree branch, whacking me on the head.

Bad move. I reeled with pain, then jumped up, enraged. I drew back to pounce, then…

Then, a hand started rubbing gentle circles into my back, and my anger was squelched. It started moving up as whoever it was walked up to get in front of me.

"Come on, Mat, you don't really wanna kill her, do you? That'd be a pretty lousy breakup, even for you," he said, and I thought I recognized the voice, though I couldn't figure out who it belonged to.

I looked out, and, now that I could think straight (why was I thinking straight?), I saw Emma in her red dress, now torn and dirty, hair mussed and mascara smeared. She was crying, still scared to death by _me,_ her boyfriend.

In case this wasn't clear by now, I'm a monster. Just informing you.

"See, now you're calm—though that's probably just because I'm here. Berwald thought this would happen; guess he was right. I'm almost sorry I have to do this."

Do what? What? Why would Berwald send _anyone_ after a werewolf (except maybe animal control)?

"Unfortunately for you," he laughed, somehow completely calm around a vicious beast, "I can't stay here all night making sure you don't get into trouble. So, I'm gonna have to put you to sleep. I've got a change of clothes and some breakfast in a bag, and I put it where your suit was. I'm taking the suit and your car back to my house. You can get them tomorrow, okay?"

I nodded, hoping this person would understand nonverbal communication from an animal.

"Alright, this might sting a bit."

He pierced my neck, injecting something that seared like magic into my bloodstream.

The last thing I saw before I collapsed was Lukas saying, "night, Mat," and deep, dark blue eyes that were almost purple.

As I drifted off, all I could think of was long, blonde hair and the voice of a woman I'd never met.

 **A/N: Ahaha, sooner than expected, and super fucking long, too! Thanks for the reviews, follows, and faves!**


	10. Unmasked

It was Homecoming again, and I was confused. Hadn't I just been there a few hours ago?

The gym had the same low lighting as last time, though now it was tinted a mysterious shade of royal blue, making the whole room look like almost like it was underwater. There was no music or dancing, nor were there any other people, and the silence was surreal. I wanted to shout just so it wouldn't be so damn quiet, but my voice didn't work. I walked across the room, as if doing so might help me make sense of the situation.

Luckily, I had dressed for the occasion (whatever the hell that may be). I wore the same white suit jacket and pants (tinged blue in the light), along with a _very_ spiffy black button-up shirt that felt like it was made of fine silk. My tie was supposed to be bright red, but blue light melded with it, dying it deep purple.

"Hello?" a voice called from behind me.

I turned around, but no one was there.

This was the point where I suspected that maybe—maybe!—I was dreaming. After weeks of nightmares, I really probably should have been used to this, but apparently not.

The voice repeated itself. "Hello?"

Upon listening more closely, I recognized it as my soulmate's voice. "Angel?" I replied as I turned around.

Finally, I saw her. She wore a beautiful blue gown with a fitted, sleeveless bodice that exposed her pale shoulders. The skirt was frilly and floaty and I honestly didn't know the terminology for it, but it reminded me of Cinderella. Actually, the girl herself reminded me a lot of Cinderella—a mysterious girl who seduced me again and again, only to imminently disappear. Instead of a shoe, I was left behind with only a glimmer of hope to trace her.

She gasped, like she'd never seen me before, and the shock and slight confusion in her eyes only supported such a theory. "It's you," she whispered in awe.

"Yeah, it's me." This had to be the most awkward dream I'd ever had. It was one thing to have a demure and sassy girl visit your dreams and make a fool out of you; it was quite another to be face-to-face with your bemused soulmate, who had just seen you for the first time this evening.

I felt her gentle arms wrap around my neck, and her face drew nearer and nearer to mine. "What's your name?" she asked, her lips inches from my own.

"Matthias Andersen."

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," she giggled almost drunkenly, more light-hearted and upbeat than I'd ever seen her (of course she would be, though. She'd just met her soulmate). "Who knew the captain of the football team would be my soulmate? I've been avoiding you for years, you know."

What? Her words were perhaps the only thing more distracting than the sensation of her body being so close to mine. "Why would you do that?"

My angel smirked at me, letting out a gentle and satisfied sigh. "Well, I'm a year younger than you, for one. You're not only a meathead jock, but you're also an _older_ meathead jock. I can't decide whether that title makes me think you're an imbecile, or whether it intimidates me."

"Intimidate you? Please. I'm a werewolf," I quipped. "My bark's bigger than my bite."

She snorted. "Well, clearly. I've been trying to find a good way to kiss you since we started talking, and you're still jabbering away. Can't even take a hint, silly."

"Feel free to just shut me up if you'd like to. You can kiss me whenever the hell you- mmmmmmggghhhmmmm," I said, though that last word was cut off by the unexpected feeling of her lips touching my own.

The air between us was almost electric, charged with desire and joy and passion. I could feel her presence in my bones, and it felt so, so right that tears started to prick at my eyes. Our breathing was in time, our hearts were in time, and our minds were perfectly attuned to one another.

"I love you," I sighed as we pulled away from each other.

"Great," she replied, but suddenly, her tone had gone sour. "Wouldn't it have been great if this had actually happened? This is when we were supposed to meet."

We were supposed to meet at Homecoming? At the dance I'd just taken my girlfriend to?

"I'm sorry."

"Not good enough," were the last woeful words she said before she disappeared.

Honestly, I just wanted to scream at my subconscious, tell it that that I had long since gotten the point. All this shit only served to make me feel even worse for no real reason.

My mouth wouldn't open though. 'Course not, that would be too logical.

I felt a sudden compulsion to walk out the door, and made my way across the room, azure gym blurring more with each step. As I finally stepped through the broad doorway, I noticed the hall was replaced with the main dining room in the Mulders' cafe.

At the time, I didn't question it; it's another one of those dream details that seem sound in the moment, but are nonsensical in retrospect.

Again, there was no one else there, and again, it was unnerving. I'd never seen the shop without its usual buzz of customers contentedly chatting over coffee, or Emma, Jan, and their younger brother Leo bickering as they closed shop, or… well, anything really. Perhaps the whirring of a coffee machine or, hell, even the sound of whipped cream spraying out of a can would make it seem a bit more real.

The tables all looked as they habitually did, save for one, which was decorated for a proper Victorian tea for two.

Sure, why not? I humored my dream and sat down.

Lukas appeared across from me.

Briefly, I wondered if there was any way for me to just stop dreaming, but to no avail. What kind of nightmare was this, exactly?

"What, you don't want to see me?" he asked oh-so-innocently, scowling slightly (or was that just resting bitch face? It was my own dream, and I still couldn't tell).

I rolled my eyes, but my lips were still locked.

He smirked at me, which suggested that perhaps he just had a damned good resting bitch face after all. "You're chatty today."

 _And you're a piece of shit…_ Actually, I was sort of glad I couldn't talk, because that reply would have been awful.

"You still haven't figured it out, have you?" he mused with a pleasantly surprised laugh. "God, you really are an idiot."

I exhaled sharply through my nose, because it was the closest I could get to making a sassy retort without making a sassy retort.

Lukas seemed to neither notice or care. "Mat, look into my eyes and tell me you don't know who I am."

Needless to say, that baffled me. What would looking him in the eye even accomplish? I knew what his eyes looked like; they were blue and piercing and almost frighteningly determined to do… something. Get in my pants, probably. It couldn't do any harm, though, so I looked up.

My eyes stayed trained on his hairline, and refused to glance lower. If I tried, I would see his smooth, soft lips.

I couldn't see his eyes.

"Oh god, you really don't know. Fine, what about this?" With those words, he leaned in to kiss me, both our eyes wide open as our lips touched.

Course, I could see Lukas' eyes clearly from less than an inch away. They weren't his eyes, though—they were _hers_ , dark indigo and satisfied and in love.

I awoke in a cold sweat, shivering and shaking as my head spun. Luckily, there weren't any hikers around; otherwise, they would have seen a naked dude lying face down in a pile of dead leaves, looking like he'd just seen a ghost. That would have been absolutely mortifying.

But, I figured with a sigh, if I kept thinking through scenarios like those without making a motion to prevent them, they'd probably start becoming reality. Grunting as my joints popped, I stood up and commenced the bitterly cold (but fortunately short) search for my clothes. Lukas had said something about my clothes last night, right? Up a tree? Maybe.

Sure enough, not a hundred yards away, I saw a maple tree with a pale blue waterproof rucksack hanging off of a couple limbs about five feet off the ground.

The sweatshirt and tee Lukas had given me were definitely a bit tight, and the sweats were about two inches too short, but the granola bars were delicious. Honestly, I was a bit surprised he'd even thought of breakfast, but I certainly wasn't complaining as I made my way back to my car.

I was about to get in (I'd left the door unlocked because I'm super smart) when I noticed a small piece of paper tucked under the windshield wiper. Scrawled on it in hasty chicken-scratch was a short note that read, _I'm right down the road from here—236 Green Street. I'd tell you to come over, but I'll be busy until the evening. Drop by at 6 PM, okay?_

Actually… Arthur, Berwald, and I were supposed to be investigating from lunch till five-thirty, right? That was perfect.

Lukas had to be psychic or some shit, right? Things like this didn't just happen. I wanted to get annoyed at him for somehow reading my mind, but I couldn't manage it when he was being oh-so-helpful.

It was infuriating. He was supposed to be a jerk, not some caring, kind, beautiful little-

Angel.

Shaking the thought from my brain, I began the twenty-minute drive home, trying to keep the twisted, vivid memories of last night's nightmare from resurfacing. It was too early for that shit, anyway.

* * *

Naturally, Berwald refused to tell me why he'd elected Lukas of all people to come get me. We bickered all morning and through lunch as I tried to pry the information from the stubborn clutches of my baby brother, but he wouldn't budge.

"Why don't y'ask him, if y'wanna know so badly?" he asked from the passenger seat as we drove to Arthur's house.

It was pouring rain, and if I were more emo, I might have compared the weather to my inner turmoil or something. Even with the wipers scratching furiously across the windshield, the road was barely visible beyond the layers of fog and murk and hapless, intrusive droplets of water streaked across the glass. Mildly concerned for my safety, I kept my eyes glued to the road as I replied, "godammit, Ber! You're literally sitting right next to me. Why should I have to ask some asshat why you decided to do something?"

Sure, the roar of rain drumming down on the car was deafening, but I could still practically hear Berwald roll his eyes through his tense silence. "Th's isn't about me, Mat. Y'gotta talk t'him."

"About what? Do I just walk up to him and say, 'hey, Lukas, why did my brother send you after me, and also what the fuck did you do to keep me from attacking you'?"

"Yeah, actually."

"Fuck this shit," I groaned, though I couldn't quite decide whether I was referring to my sardonic kid brother or to the rain, which had just turned into lovely flecks of hail right as I was pulling up Arthur's driveway. "We're here, anyway. I'll decide what to do when I pick up my suit later."

Neither one of us spoke for the entirety of our grueling trip from the car to the Kirkland's house. I shivered at the cold; small hailstones beat against my head like an obnoxious storm of tic-tacs in an endless refrigerator. How the hell had the weather gotten _colder_ since this morning? At this rate, I would likely get sick, supernaturally heightened immune system be damned.

To think that we were supposed to be searching both the site of my confrontation with the Soulmate Thief (as I'd decided to call him) and the site of Tino's kidnapping this afternoon. On foot. Outside. Dear lord.

My mood wasn't even justified, really. I had been cornered and bribed into offing my soulmate, and my pack was, for all intents and purposes, defunct—why should a little bad weather be enough to bother me?

But, my depressing thoughts were cut off by the sound of Berwald knocking on the door, though my brother was paying more attention to my fuming than anything else, shooting me a concerned glare.

Stuck for a reply, I raised my middle finger, pointedly turning away from him.

"Well, hello to you too, Matthias," Arthur said with a smirk, and I realized that the door had already opened. I could barely see his eyes under his green rain jacket, but his wheat-blond hair poked out enough that he was definitely recognizable.

That, and honestly, who else would wear such an ugly shade of chartreuse?

The hand I'd used to flip Berwald off shot into my pocket. "Oh, no, that wasn't… There's no point in explaining. Hey, what's up?"

"Nothing important, yet. Personally, I'd prefer we skip the chatter and move on to _finally_ finding this bastard's magical signature."

Ah, Arthur—always so blunt and impatient. At least he was reliable. "Y'know, for once, I agree. Let's get on with this. Berwald?"

He shrugged. "Sounds good."

"Where to first?" Arthur asked as he jogged over to through the hail and took a seat in the backseat of the car.

Berwald and I followed suit, getting out of the harsh weather as quickly as possible. "Honestly," I replied, "I don't have any preference."

"Well why don't we go to the place where you saw that sorcerer, then, Matthias? Any objections?"

There were none, so off we went.

Never had I been on such a silent car ride. No one seemed to be in the mood to talk—not even me—, so I settled for listening to the hail pounding angrily on the car. Occasionally, Berwald would let out a small grunt, as if he were thinking of something to say to me, but I'd silence him quickly with a melodramatic sigh and a roll of my eyes. He hadn't been anything but vexing today, and my patience was quickly wearing down. Fortunately, Arthur was smart enough not to question, opting to conspicuously text Allie Jones with that dopey lovestruck grin he always tried to hide from her in person.

Though Arthur was a pretty textbook sorcerer, refusing to stray from the rules or believe any of the old, famous, dead magicians to be fallible, he had also been an astute soulmate-denyer up to the point where he'd met Allie. I remember hearing him talk about his previous girlfriend as if she were the best thing that had ever happened to him, like she was the most thrilling person he'd ever met.

Once, I'd asked him what would happen when either he or the girl found their respective soulmates, and he'd given me this stern scowl with a set, square jaw and hissed, _"Quite frankly, I don't believe much will change. She's all I've wanted, and all I'll ever need, so there'd really be no reason for me to find my soulmate, even if I believed in them, now would there?"_

Even now, after he'd supposedly found his happy little cookie cutter, fairytale ending, I could still see him struggling with this whole soulmate business. When he was away from Allie, he'd speak highly of her, noting her mathematical intellect and general amiable (if a bit facetious) attitude. However, once she was in the room, he'd keep a stiff upper lip, concealing his poorly-hidden feelings within a thunderous temper and a pompous arrogance that revealed just how insecure he felt about this affair.

As someone who values my agency and ability to think critically in spite of the greater forces of magic and destiny, I can relate.

"Matthias?" Arthur suddenly asked, having turned away from his phone for what was probably the first time since we'd gotten in the car.

I glanced at him through the rearview mirror, and saw that he was looking out the window. "Uh, yeah?"

"We just passed the bowling alley on 28th. That is where you saw him, right?"

"Shit!" Luckily, no one else was on the road, because the U-turn I pulled definitely would have caused an accident. I quickly stopped the car in an empty parking lot labeled 'FOR BOWL-O-RAMA CUSTOMERS ONLY', though I was about 99% sure that the place was closed down, anyway.

Both my brother and Arthur followed me to the back side of the building, beyond the surrounding rusty fence, on the sidewalk. "This is the place," I explained. "He pinned me to the fence right about… here." I gestured toward an area where I could see a vaguely head-shaped dent, and I suspected that the red rust might have been hiding some remaining blood stains (though those could have washed off in the rain by this point).

"You have an awfully big head," Arthur observed with a smirk as he walked up to the fence and ran his hand along the dent. "The magic still looks fresh enough. I'll see what I can find."

"Can ya do it quick? This hail is awful."

"Yes, yes, just give me a moment." He held out his index finger, then, his eyes glowing like emeralds with magic, he whispered, _"evoco caracterem,"_ or rather: _show his mark_.

I couldn't tell the difference, but Arthur clearly could, because at that moment he jolted backward as if thrust down by a poltergeist (and I was experienced enough by then to know that that wasn't out of the question), a look of sheer, open-mouthed horror on his face. "No," he gasped, "that's impossible."

"What?" Berwald asked.

I was thinking something along the same lines. "What is it?"

Arthur simply sat there in the hail for a few moments, shaking his head in disbelief. Then, clenching his fists in barely-contained rage, he cried, "Look here, Mat! I don't care what you say, he is _not_ a killer, a kidnapper, or anything of the sort!"

Again, I asked, "what?"

Finally, he seemed to get a grip, taking a deep breath and letting his joints relax. "That magical signature belongs to a sorcerer named Toris Lorinaitis, and there is clear evidence of the aggressive spells you were talking about earlier, but… I know this boy, and he's not some crackpot evil sorcerer."

"How do you know him? What makes you think he wouldn't do this?"

His eyes met mine with unwavering confidence that dared me to deny him. "His mother is a friend of mine, and we trained together as children. We still stayed in contact through letters up until-" Arthur's breath hitched here, a small seam in the tale he was weaving, "-well, up until recently. He moved to Russia years ago to escape suspicion, Matthias. Toris is thousands of miles away."

"Yeah, but that signature is his," I argued, but Berwald was focused on a much more crucial piece of information, and he was willing to poke at the seams to get there.

"He stopped writing you recently?"

The crease between his eyebrows, well, de _creased_ a bit. "Well, yes."

Ooh, bad move. Arthur had just shown a weak point, and as captain of the debate team, Berwald was obligated to enforce his typical argumentative stratagem. He took three precise, calculated steps in Arthur's direction and leaned down to accentuate his exceedingly great stature before squinting down his nose at him as he queried, "How recently?"

At that point, Arthur (who'd attended debate sessions in the past) saw exactly what he was doing, and tried to stand up straight as he could before admitting through gritted teeth that, "the last letter I received from him was dated August 8th."

I let out a low whistle. "Oh my god."

Berwald was spooked too, enough so that he dropped the domineering posture in favor of a horrified, drop-jawed gape. "That's the day we lost Tino, Arthur."

"No, I can't believe this. There's no way this could happen."

Wow, okay, _someone_ was in denial. "Clearly, there is."

"Could be possessed," Berwald said.

Arthur's fierce glare suddenly cleared up, and he ran a hand through his hair in thought. "You're right, actually, there's a chance he could be possessed. Most of the time, that would cause another, separate signature to reveal itself, but some are especially good at hiding theirs." Aha! A reasonable explanation! "Either way, I think you'll agree with me when I say this: we need to find Toris."

So, this whole time, that guy in the black hoodie who'd overtaken me, the guy with shaggy, greasy, grimy brown hair, was just a decoy?

I wasn't sure I bought it, but either way, I was completely on board with finding the bastard who'd rid me of my soulmate.

Toris had better watch out, whether he'd ruined my life of his own volition or not.

* * *

Emil, Lukas' little brother, answered the door at exactly six in the evening with a swift punch to the jaw.

"What the fuck?" was all I could think to say.

"You bastard!" he replied, as if that explained anything.

I'd seen the kid a few times around school, but he was two years younger than me, so I'd barely spoken to him. He was on Berwald's debate team, and I recall a few kids teasing him about an apparent crush on my brother, but that hadn't ever amounted to anything (especially since Tino came into the picture). All that aside, he seemed like a nice enough guy, if a bit shy and awkward.

But, right now he was neither of those things; he was a blazing inferno of pure rage, ready to snap completely if given the slightest reason to do so.

I put my hands up in surrender, hoping that this would be enough to appease him. "Look, I don't understand what-"

Bad idea.

"Like _hell_ you don't, Andersen! You broke Lu's heart!" he shot back as he threw another punch, this time right to my left jaw (at this rate, I wouldn't be able to open my mouth without feeling sore). He was stronger than expected, and I reeled backward in pain.

Despite the pain, I tried to take it in stride (given the rate I healed at, the bruises would probably fade in a day or two, anyway), laughing off the dull throbbing of both my cheeks. "God, maybe next time you could at least say 'hello' before you beat me up?"

If I looked closely enough, I could probably see the steam emitting from Emil's ears. He snatched me up by the collar of the flannel shirt Lukas had left me that morning and pinned me to the wall. "Andersen, I swear to god-"

"Knock it off, Emil," Lukas called from the top of the stairs.

Emil shot his brother a deadly glare, which Lukas returned with even greater force. Then, sighing in defeat, the boy reluctantly put me down—though not without giving me my own little death glare—and I turned to get a good look at my, uh, friend? Enemy? Common acquaintance?

Lukas was wearing a black v-neck tee shirt and hot pink women's gym shorts that seemed just a little too feminine for a guy, but who was I to judge? If my intuition (or rather, my subconscious) was correct, I shouldn't have suspected anything different. "Mat, your suit's in my room, come on up."

My brain told me no, that this wasn't a good idea, that maybe Lukas would try to seduce me with his magic again, but I couldn't seem to resist him. Without even meaning to, my feet staggered up the stairs, leaving my prior logic and grudge-holding biases in the entryway for Emil to deal with. "Alright," I heard myself say.

Had this happened three weeks ago, I would have suspected that he'd cast another spell on me. But, with my shaky memory of last night, I didn't dare let my focus waver from the task at hand: was he or was he not my soulmate?

If he was, then everything would suddenly make a hell of a lot more sense.

Before I had the time to contemplate the gravity of my hypothesis, I found myself standing across from Lukas, who had just set my (freshly-ironed holy fuck) suit on his bed. He made his way over to the desk in the corner of the room, sitting backwards on the fold-up chair there so he could face me. "Okay, what's up?" he asked. "You usually don't look like you're thinking so hard."

I ignored the insult and moved tactlessly on to my intended topic of conversation. "What the hell black magic did you pull last night?" I blurted, sounding much more snippy about it than I actually was. Honestly, I was more curious than anything else.

Lukas scowled in a contemplative way that reminded me of Berwald when he was trying to make up a story. Eventually, he gave in, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. "All I did was show up. No love spells, nothing like that. Didn't I tell you last night? It was Berwald's idea..."

His crypticness was infuriating. "Okay, what was it then? I could have attacked you! I should have attacked you! I... Berwald knows something I don't, and I'm trying to figure it out, but-"

"You won't figure it out yourself," he assured me, which only made me want to figure this out more, "and I'm not about to tell you, so you might as well give up."

Actually, for a minute there, I'd suspected that perhaps Lukas was less of a douche-nozzle than I'd made him out to be. However, at that remark, I took it back. "I don't like being ignorant."

"God, you must lead a disappointing life, then," he scoffed as he haughtily stared down his nose at me. Honestly, he looked like a prissy little prep-school boy.

I rolled my eyes. "Asshole."

Lukas only laughed at that insult, saying, "I try." But, he sensed my growing impatience and changed tactics as his small smile smoothed out into a thin, stoic line. "I'm curious, though: what do you think Berwald's figured out? You may be dense, but you're not unobservant. I bet the thought has at least crossed your mind."

"I'm no Sherlock—that's your ex."

"Low blow. Come on, Matthias. Humor me."

I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I was either too nervous that I was wrong, or too terrified of what it would mean if I was right. "Fine, fine. Should I take a logical route or a supernatural route?"

"Who says you can't use both?" he asked, and I could almost see the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "You're talking to a sorcerer, y'know."

Guess I couldn't argue with that reasoning. "I'll start logical. Objectively speaking, I really shouldn't trust you. You cast a spell on me to make me fall in love with you (that didn't even completely work, by the way), and you haven't given me any good reason to forgive you."

He nodded. "Point."

"But," I continued reluctantly, trying my damndest not to sound like a fool, "you also seemed very genuine, almost like there was another reason you were trying to get me. I'm not exactly an unpopular kid." I'm also not exactly the most modest kid. "There are a lot of people (usually girls) who profess their love for me, then immediately try to get in my pants, and though it looked like that's what you were doing at first... something about your voice, or something in your eyes..." I paused, blushing just a bit too hard to be entirely comfortable. Lukas still seemed to be taking me seriously, though, so I kept going. "You aren't just lusting after me. You see something, lord knows what, that you actually like. Ya feel me?"

"Sure," he said honestly enough. "Go on."

I winced. "Well, that's about all I have without involving paranormal voodoo shit."

I could feel the eye-roll aura emanating from his very being. "It's not voodoo or shit, but I don't have a problem with supernatural things. Like I said-"

"You're a sorcerer, yeah, I get it," I interrupted, my fingers busying themselves as they shakily fixed my collar. "Sorry, I don't talk to many magical people to begin with, so having conversations about things that aren't mundane makes me a bit nervous."

"It's fine," he promised, "what is it?"

"About two months ago, I made Arthur cast a spell on me to get rid of my soulmate. I don't really wanna discuss why right now, but it's beside the point. It was fine for a bit, but after I kicked you off of Tino's rescue mission..."

Seemingly frustrated that I had trailed off, he shot me a quick, "what?"

The words, for better or worse, burst forth unfettered. "I've been having dreams about my soulmate. At first it wasn't any big deal; I'd see a strand of blond hair and the top of her dress, but they started getting more vivid. She started talking, and I got to see more and more of her, and, god, this sounds crazy."

"Dreams like that are pretty normal amongst people who are separated from their soulmate, but only if they're already bonded. Why would you, an unbonded werewolf with a girlfriend, have dreams like that?"

Ooh, he was such a conceited douchebag. The pleased look on his face was enough to make me want to simultaneously wipe it off with both a kiss and a punch in the nose.

In the end, I decided to take the nonviolent, conversational route. "Last night, right after you put me to sleep with... what, a tranquilizer dart?"

"Soporific charm," he corrected, "bit of valerian, a few sprigs of lavender, half a teaspoon of honey, and this is all going over your head anyway, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah, uh, okay. Anyway, after you put me to sleep, I had a dream, and you were in it—only, you had the same eyes as my soulmate."

"What?"

"Your eyes literally looked exactly the same. It scared the living shit out of me."

"Like teenagers?" he asked, an eyebrow raised like he'd said something witty.

The joke was lost on me. "Huh?"

Lukas shook his head. "Maybe your dream's trying to tell you something. Do we have the same eyes in real life?"

"I don't know. I haven't gotten a good look at your eyes in a while."

He finally looked right into my eyes, and reality came crashing down. They were the precise precise shape, the precise size, even the precise shade of indigo as the love of my dreams.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted, "you don't happen to secretly be a girl, do you?"

"That's definitely an interesting question," Lukas—Lu?—replied, as if I'd just made some major breakthrough.

Actually, I might have. Who knew?

Well, Lu did, but…. "You're not going to answer it."

Lu snorted. "Of course not. You'll have to find out for yourself."

"Well, screw that. I want results."

And then, no matter how much my mind was screaming for me to get the hell away from this jerkwad, I tilted his chin up ever so slightly, brushed his hair behind one ear, and kissed him with as much vigor as I could muster.

Lukas' lips seared against my own, a perfect lure of chapped (but still gentle) wet heat. If I shut my eyes, I could imagine the person I'd wanted to kiss since I hit puberty, the one I'd needed to find since I'd started fantasizing about my soulmate. Without even thinking about who I was making out with, I coaxed his lips open with my tongue, meeting very little resistance on Lukas' part.

Suddenly, we were on top of the bed. I had pinned him below me, my hands wrapped around his neck but occasionally slipping below his shirt to rub his shoulder blades or collarbone. We were both drooling, yet neither of us dared to break the kiss.

I could only imagine Berwald's reaction to something like this. He'd probably say something like, _'not gay my ass'_ , then I'd punch him in the nose.

Except, I wouldn't punch him in the nose—I was too busy sucking face with Lukas Jensen, who I was supposed to hate, to even think of doing something else.

Then he pushed me away, holding me at arm's length.

"You idiot," Lukas gasped as he wiped the spit off of his chin. He shook his head, seeming almost disappointed, then let out a heavy sigh. "True love's kiss only works if you're in love, too, and you did a pretty good job of preventing that _utter disaster_ from being a problem."

Words didn't work, so I just said, "oh..."

He paused for a moment, waiting for more. When nothing came, he rolled his eyes. "That's all you have to say?"

I tried again. "Oh my god."

That clearly didn't suffice, because Lukas pushed me off of him and turned his back to me as he fixed his hair. "You can leave now. Honestly, I'm not sure why you came in the first place if all you wanted to do was lead me on."

Then I was completely dumbfounded.

Realizing that the message didn't quite get through, or figuring that I was too much of a dick to react, he swiveled back around to level me with a glare, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Go back to Emma, Matthias," he demanded in what was meant to be a calm and level-headed tone, but his voice was shaky and I could hear the barely-contained tears. "I told you you didn't wanna know."

With that, he stood up and started to walk toward the door.

No. No, that wasn't right. He couldn't just leave me here, not after that kiss, not when he was looking at me with _her gorgeous eyes_ and trying not to cry because of something stupid I'd done. That, and I was in his house, so he couldn't go very far, anyway. "Wait," I exclaimed, just as he was wrapping his fingers around the door knob.

Lukas clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he growled, "no! I'm not listening to you anymore. I know you feel completely justified in your actions, and I'm not even going to try to convince you otherwise." His face suddenly softened, and he turned his gaze to the ground. "Just know," he implored in earnest, "that I lov-"

 _I love you._

If I could, I'd let him say it, then assure him that I did in fact love him too.

But I couldn't. "Don't say it. Say anything, just not that."

"Fuck you, Matthias Andersen!" he snapped. In retrospect, I probably deserved that. "You're not going to interrupt me when I tell you that I love my soulmate—that _I love you_! I love you, you fucking ass, and no spell is ever going to change that!"

And there he said it. The words hung in the air, venomous and haunting.

"Lucia Jensen. That's your real name, right?"

He furrowed his brow, as if caught off guard. "Yeah."

"You were a sophomore last year."

A year younger than me, and originally destined to dance with me at homecoming.

"Star of the girls' hockey team."

I would've gone to every game.

A nod. "Yeah."

"And I could have been your soulmate."

"You already are my soulmate," he insisted- no, she insisted.

"But you're not _my_ soulmate."

Lucia Jensen leveled me with a take-no-shit stare that begged for me to revere her. Now that I knew what to look for, the austere, cantankerous young man morphed into a strong and willful young woman who wore an unfortunate mask of masculinity. "And whose fault is that?"

I bit my lip, inhaling sharply through my nose before letting out my breath slowly and smoothly. "You love me."

She nodded, turning red from the apples of her cheeks (notably more angular and masculine than in my dreams), to the tips of her ears. "I love you," she said, completely embarrassed by something she couldn't control, and I wanted to hug her, to hold her close.

Almost, I could see how she was my soulmate, how I could perhaps love her one day.

But it just wasn't enough to make me romance her, much less break the spell.

Even with the realization, we could still both be very well screwed.

I was still a failure of a soulmate in every way.

How exactly could she still love me, after all the shit I'd put her through? I couldn't even love myself after that; why was she still willing to give me a shot, even on the verge of frustrated tears and permanent heartbreak?

"Well fuck."

 **A/N: Hahaha, and thus we end Act II! Next we'll have yet another interlude, then a few chapters from Emil's POV. Thank you all so much for the amazing reviews last chapter! Between exams, I haven't had time to properly reply to all of them lately, but they really do make my day. See you guys soon!**


	11. -Another Brief Interlude-

*****TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THE SECOND SCENE FOR CREEPY BRAINWASHING AND TORTURE STUFF. IT'S NOT THAT GRAPHIC, BUT IF THAT BOTHERS YOU EASILY, PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION*****

 _Lu invited Matthias to dinner that evening, but one glower from Emil ensured that the werewolf would decline such a request (though it wasn't intimidation so much as polite avoidance that motivated him to do so.)_

 _Dinner was eaten in silence for the most part, the tension palpable enough to cut through with the butterknife Emil was using to spread margarine on his bread. His sister looked at the ground, her face trained into a stoic mask that refused to budge. Lu's hands moved to halfheartedly cut the meat on her plate, then pick the tomatoes out of her salad before taking a small bite, only to place her fork back down to wash down the lingering tomato taste with some water._

 _Emil had taken to making dinner lately (actually, he was starting to find cooking quite therapeutic now that he'd gotten the hang of it), and he'd forgotten that she didn't like tomatoes. He glanced up at her, expecting the usual criticisms:_ 'Emil, for the love of god, hold the tomatoes. How many times do I have to tell you?' _and all that business, but she didn't say a word._

 _She continued to eat small, unwilling bits of dinner, between which she would sulk and gripe inwardly about whatever the hell she was sulking and griping about._

 _Finally, Emil gave up, tossing down his own silverware in frustration. "For Christ's sake, Lu, what is going on with you?"_

 _Lu only shook her head. "It's no big deal, really. I'll get over it."_

" _What are you feeling?" Emil pressed, undaunted. "You know you can tell me these things. Is it because I kicked Andersen out? Look, I just-"_

 _She shook her head again. "Stop that. I probably shouldn't've had him over for dinner, anyway. I need to clear my head... Honestly, I don't even know how to feel right now. Today should've been amazing—I'd imagined it being amazing in my head—but, I kinda feel like shit."_

 _Great, great, but what exactly was she talking about? "Why so mysterious?" he asked. "Did Matthias do something to you?"_

 _Likely seeking to look casual, she poked at her dinner again as she replied, "he figured out that I'm his soulmate."_

 _Emil's jaw dropped and his eyes widened so that his purple irises were entirely visible under his platinum-blond hair. "You're joking."_

" _I'm being completely serious," Lu promised with a light smirk that signaled to Emil that she hadn't completely lost it yet. "He also said he's willing to help break the spell. And..."_

" _And what?"_

" _We kissed," she said, brow furrowed in thought as her index finger inadvertently brushed across her chapped lips. "That bastard is so confusing, I swear to god. The spell couldn't have changed me into a guy if there was a possibility he could become attracted to me. Why would he kiss me like that if he didn't want to be with me romantically?"_

 _Emil paused for a moment, before his eyes lit up with a newfound idea. "That's a good question. Maybe his romantic tendencies don't align with his sexuality?"_

" _What?"_

" _Y'know, like Vladimir," he explained. "He's pansexual as hell, but he doesn't do romance."_

 _That situation had actually really confused Lu at first. Why would Vlad not have a romantic relationship with his soulmate? But, after a long-winded explanation on the joys of queer-platonic relationships, Lu seemed to either understand or pretend to understand well enough that it was no big deal._

" _So you're saying that Matthias is into guys, but he's not…" She searched for a phrase, but only came up with: "y'know,_ into guys _."_

 _Emil seemed set on washing his hands of the matter once Lu had heard his hypothesis. "I'm not saying anything. I'm just speculating."_

" _Huh."_

* * *

 _Tino had never been so shockingly close to his breaking point before. The tall, Russian man grinned down at him from his place behind the lights (the bright, blinding lights), and the shadows cast on his face made him look like a Cheshire cat._

 _When was the last time he'd slept? Eaten? Hell, when had he last_ bathed?

" _Tino," the man asked ever-so-sweetly, "you look so tense. Why do you think that is?"_

 _Such a dull question shouldn't have caused him to shudder, to close his eyes, hoping in vain that he would forget that awful leer for just a moment, to stop imagining such an expression on_ Berwald _of all people. What were they doing to him? Why did he feel this way?_

 _Apparently, Tino had taken too long to respond, for the Russian man calmly walked up to him, a hand reaching up to grasp his jaw with strong, calloused hands that were eerily similar to Berwald's. "Tino, you answer me when I talk to you. You know that we expect proper behavior from our houseguests, no?"_

 _He wanted to respond, but his breathing only came in shallow gasps, and he found himself rendered dumb. Even his mind, which (though damaged) had at least remained sharp and vivid throughout this torment, had been reduced to an endless mantra of 'no no no, don't do this again, don't do it again, you can't-'_ _as he tried and failed to get his breathing under control._

 _This must have displeased the man, for he tightened his grip on Tino's jowl as he leveled the boy with a pout. He said, "you remember what happens to improper guests, do you not? You already face indefinite punishment on account of your choosing to be a rabid mutt. Do you not wish to reduce your inadequacy?"_

 _Fuck, he really did have to say something right now_ — _if he didn't, who knew what he may be subjected to? "C-can you repeat the question?" he gasped, barely loud enough to be heard. He pinched his palms, hoping that the pain would draw him away from his imminent panic, or at least slow his breathing rate to something below the verge of hyperventilation._

 _Luckily, with that, the man let go of his jaw and stepped back to admire the bruises on Tino's cheeks (or at least, that's what Tino_ assumed _he was doing). "Certainly. I simply asked why you are so tense."_

 _A few short weeks ago, he would likely have said something like, 'god, I don't know, Mr. Creepy Russian Kidnapper, sir. Maybe it could be because you're torturing me?' or perhaps 'y'know, sitting in this chair is really making my back stiff. Wanna find a sauna somewhere?'_

 _Now, he whimpered like a kicked puppy (which, to be fair, he_ was _a werewolf being subjected to physical and mental abuse). "I don't know," he sighed, in pain, exhausted and out of breath. "I keep doing things wrong. I don't know why."_

" _You do know why, don't you?" the Russian man replied, his face suddenly morphing into something somber and almost genuine that made Tino think that perhaps there was some sort of inner kindness within his captor after all._

 _Was that the Stockholm Syndrome talking? Probably, but Tino had long since passed the point of caring._

 _After a few moments of consideration, he nodded hesitantly, blowing a loose lock of overgrown hair out of his face. Tears stung his eyes. "Yeah, I think I finally do. I… finally realize now."_

 _The twinkle in the man's eye was so, so satisfying after weeks of feeling that he'd constantly let his captor down. "Oh?"_

" _Uh-huh," he confirmed with a pathetic hiccup more fitting of a frail child than a werewolf-boy who was strong in both body and mind. "You're right: my temper, my refusal to cooperate, my pain and suffering… they're all just a result of my being a werewolf. It's wrong, and it's my fault."_

 _A smile. A real, sincere smile. "Very good. And how do we fix this?"_

" _I think…" He trailed off, his tears receding in his distraction. "I have to kill Berwald, right? He's the one who turned me into this monster, so if I kill him, I'll turn back?"_

Bullshit _, some deep, untouched part of his brain cried out as his eyes screwed up. That's bullshit, and you know it._

 _Unfortunately, that inner voice of reason had been all but washed away and beaten out of Tino, and the rest of his thoughts moved in to quell his doubts. He remembered the man's rough hands, but in his mind they had turned to Berwald's, punching and choking and shoving him . Every single insult thrown his way—both during this torture session and before, from all sorts of sorcerers who thought he was an animal, a monster—were reimagined through Berwald's lips. He remembered the day he'd met Berwald, the day Tino had begged his now-estranged lover to bite him in his wolf form, the day that Berwald had actually done it and changed the boy's life forever. This time, though, Berwald wasn't gentle and calm; he was vicious and cold and it didn't fit him at all, yet somehow, deep inside Tino's mind, it made sense. His tears returned unbidden, silently rolling down bruised and bloodied cheeks._

 _When he opened his eyes, all he could see was Berwald in front of him, smirking maniacally and looking him up and down like Tino was some sort of fucking chattel made to do his bidding._

 _Tino blinked, shook his head, and (with the last of his sanity) looked up again._

 _His captor replaced his soulmate, and Tino breathed out a sigh of relief. For some reason, that made it better. As his breathing slowed, he almost wondered how twisted it was that this brought him some form of comfort, but he couldn't be bothered to reason through it. The man's smile was no longer manic but genuine, his glare no longer repulsed but endeared. He leveled Tino with a victorious smirk, biting his lip as if to reign in his excitement. "Good, good. I shall tell Natalya to untie you now that we have your cooperation."_

" _Oh, thank god. I'll finally be rid of this curse!" Tino exclaimed as the Russian marched out of the room entirely, likely to tell his dear sister of the marvelous success they'd had that day._

 _Without the fear of embarrassment, his quiet crying escalated into full-blown sobs that shook his chest and left him gasping for air. His eyes went bloodshot as his cheeks were entirely dampened and his nose ran, but he did nothing to stop those (nor could he, really, since his arms were still bound and there were no tissues in sight). "Thank god," he repeated, overwhelmed with the sense of relief crashing down on him like a tidal wave. "Thank god, thank god, thank god!"_

 _Honestly, the turning point in the brainwashing had been when he'd felt his connection to Berwald fade, likely through sorcery on his soulmate's end. Before then, he'd been immovable and unwilling to see the light. It was difficult, but with Berwald clearly still trying to empathize and communicate with him, it had been bearable. However, though at first he'd been heartbroken by the fact that his own mate had decided to stop suffering through this alongside him (if not in person, then through the bond), he quickly realized that this attachment had blinded him from the truth: the soulmate bond was a lie._

 _Not since he'd met Berwald had his mind been so clear. As the agony of lost love and torture and his own wrongdoings faded, he noticed that he could easily live a better life without Berwald in it at all. It only took a few weeks of convincing on his captor's part, but he'd finally seen it like everyone else. It was Berwald's fault he was a werewolf in the first place, invulnerable but dangerous and angry and wild and so,_ so _disgusting. He didn't think he had the guts to take him out yet, but he would learn quickly enough._

 _Once he was detached from the cause of his misery, he could finally move past this._

 _A bond unbound could easily be forgotten._

 **A/N: THANK YOU ALL FOR THE WONDERFUL REVIEWS, THEY'RE AMAZING. Also, that last scene is about as graphic as it gets, so don't worry about Tino being subject to any more torture. The damage is done. It was brutal, but it has been finished. Now for phase three, which will be from Emil's perspective...**


	12. Act III: Emil - Demonic Possession

**A/N: Emil's POV. Be prepared. Also, thanks for the reviews, I love hearing your feedback!**

Since I was little kid, I knew not to assume people's own biased words to be fact until such lowly hypotheses were tried, tested, and proven. My mother always called me her 'little scientist', skipping stones at different angles and trying to identify constellations and doing his big sister's math homework for her. I could make sense of everything and anything, if I put my mind to it.

Even magic— _especially_ magic. From just a few feet away, I could witness nuclear fusion, an explosion of antimatter, the creation of an aurora. I'd always been just a little bit jealous of Lucia's abilities, if only because she never used her magic for the sake of quantum physics or other unproven scientific principles. Who knew? Maybe this was the secret to legitimizing the theory of the multiverse!

She'd always just give me this knowing _look_ , the one that told me I was too eccentric and awkward for my own good, and I'd be left to my own devices.

I digress, though: the world was hard-pressed to try to find ways to confuse me.

This, though? I was completely gobsmacked. I really like that word, actually. _Gobsmacked._ It's very accurate; I did indeed feel as though I had been smacked by all sorts of _gob_ , whatever the hell that was.

How was this even possible? My magic life and my school life were never meant to converge like this.

* * *

 **KOREAN EXCHANGE STUDENT VICTIM OF CONTINUING ATTACKS**

 **POLICE ASSURE CIVILIANS "WE HAVE IT UNDER CONTROL"**

* * *

I don't read the paper. I never read the paper. Newspapers are out-of-date, only old folks and hipsters read those.

But, I couldn't keep myself from buying this one on my way to class. The headline screamed at me, cold and unforgiving, begging me to read it and weep. I'd just seen Yong Soo last Friday; he couldn't possibly be _dead_ , could he?

He couldn't have been killed by some slimy, no-good vampire in an uncontrollable rage. "We have it under control," the police had promised.

Oh, that was hilarious. These guys didn't know what they were up against.

Vampires are brutal creatures when they're enraged. It's one thing to have an infestation of venomous snakes, but it's quite another when the venomous snakes look and act like people, only more conniving and less empathetic—not that this dissuaded _me_ from taking one on. Whoever this filthy vamp was, he'd just agitated the wrong mathematics prodigy. And yes, that was definitely more threatening than it sounded.

At least, that's what I tried to tell Lucia (or Lukas, I guess, since we were in public) as I interrupted whatever conversation she'd been having with Andersen. I wish I could say I felt guilty for cutting my sister's soulmate off, but unfortunately, he was a jerk, and this was far more important.

"Emil," Lu retorted, an impatient edge creeping into her tone, "we're already on the case. It's not safe for you to get involved, anyway."

I rolled my eyes. "I managed perfectly fine during the dragon incident!"

We don't talk about the dragon incident; otherwise, I'd explain. All you need to know is that there was magic, and I'm the one who saved the day. That's what I always do—save the day, even when no one wants me to.

Lu, however, knew exactly what I was talking about, but she chose to write it off in favor of a scoff and an ever-pretentious, "this is completely different. You don't even have any real life experience with vampires, and you don't know how to defend yourself."

"There's some garlic in the house," I pointed out, "and I think we still have the stakes from that tent we used for last year's camping trip."

That's when Andersen piped up, smirking that devilish smirk that made me want to throttle him. "Actually, the stake thing doesn't work. They're definitely allergic to garlic, though!"

"Oh, and how would you know?" I sniffed, trying to appear unimpressed even as I was mentally noting that stakes would be useless. Maybe, if it looked like I was losing interest, Lu wouldn't be suspicious. Course, that would mean I'd be forced to slay a vampire all by myself, but that was okay.

"Well, my best friend's from a family of vampire slayers," Andersen explained through a thick layer of sardonicism, "though I'm sure you'd know better. I mean, you _are_ the one with the AP Physics textbook."

Ouch. "Lu, would you please make him shut the hell up?"

"I think you had that one coming, Emil." God, only Andersen could make her say that, I swear. This soulmate thing was a mess, especially if it was unrequited.

Not that it was Lu's fault it was unrequited. No, that was _all_ Andersen.

Luckily, I still had a secret weapon: Lucia could never ignore my cutesy lillebror voice. "C'mon, Lu," I whined, batting my eyes melodramatically (this had better work, because this bit was pretty damned embarrassing). "Storesøstre are supposed to protect their little brothers, right?"

But, Lu only gave me a patronizing pat on the head and replied, "technically speaking, I'm not your storesøster anymore. You ought to start calling me storebror, _lillebror._ "

"What? But- but…" I trailed off, words failing me as I floundered for order or reason in this sudden chaos. How could she not be my storesøster? She'd (or rather, he'd?) always been my storesøster. That simply made no sense to me. "You don't have a problem with me calling you Lucia at home!" I retorted. "No one even knows what 'storesøster' means, anyway!"

Andersen didn't even hesitate before raising his hand and saying, "I do!"

My jaw dropped in astonishment. "You do?" Had he been learning Norwegian, just because our family had emigrated here from Norway (and Iceland, sort of… it's complicated)?

"Ja, I'm Danish. Storesøster means the same thing in Danish as it does in Norwegian. Or was that Swedish?" He exaggerated his barely-noticeable accent (honestly, had he not pointed it out, I would've thought he was American), almost like he'd miraculously shoved a potato down his throat in the blink of an eye.

I ignored his question. In my opinion, if he couldn't tell the difference between Swedish and Norwegian on his own, he didn't deserve to know. Instead, I furrowed my brow and turned to my sister, exclaiming, "cripes, Lu, he's Danish! You can't marry a Dane!"

"You're from Iceland, Emil. You're biased," Lu sneered in reply. She tried to push a lock of hair behind her ear, but it was too short, sliding right back in front of her eyes. "And who said anything about marrying anyone? For all we know, I'm stuck like this forever."

Ah, and whose fault was that? Right, the person Lu was trying to flirt with. Oh my god.

Not that Andersen was unreceptive; no, he was leading her on just fine. "Oh, don't be so pessimistic!" he chided with a lopsided grin which, added to his meager seventeen year-old boy stubble, made for a pretty alluring trap. Hell, even _I_ was starting to leer.

Andersen leaned over so that his face was mere inches from Lu's (ewww), staring into her eyes as continued to smile wolfishly. "Maybe I just need a little more…" he trailed off, taking that same strand of hair Lu had been messing with, and brushing it back. Naturally, it stayed in place perfectly fine when _he_ did it. "Convincing," he finished, pulling back and winking right at me as he took an ever-so-innocent sip out of his can of ginger ale.

That was the moment I decided I hated ginger ale with a passion, and the moment I realized just how flirtatious straight guys could be around other men. It was pretty amazing, actually. I could never flirt that well with guys, and I'm bisexual. "Okay, I officially take everything back. Mat, you are the biggest fuckboy I have ever met."

"Hey!" he cried in mock offense, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think that was pretty smooth, actually."

The worst part was: he was right. That was super smooth! Why was he so smooth?! It wasn't fair...

"Emil, do you have anything else to say?" Lu sighed, her moment clearly ruined. "Because I don't think your pouty face is gonna cut it this time around. I know your friend is dead, and I'm really sorry, but that's no reason to bring Matthias into this, I can't risk your safety. Mom just got back last night, and she's enough of a handful on her own; I don't wanna have to chase around _two_ irresponsible family members. So, sorry, but 'no' is my final answer."

And suddenly, everything made sense. Of course Lu was being so short with me; she always got uptight when mom was in town. The only mystery here was Matthias Andersen's suaveness, which I could easily chalk up to his being a fuckboy.

Course, that didn't really help my situation. I still kinda really wanted to kill a vampire and satiate my desire for revenge, but no one looked willing to help with that, and I couldn't exactly take on a venomous supervillain without any help.

Except… Andersen. Would he be willing to let me in? He'd never specifically said 'no'' (not that he'd said 'yes', either). Perhaps it was worth a shot. "That's really great," I told Lu, trying to use a tone that sounded equal parts disappointed and submissive. I took a sip from my carton of milk with my left hand, using my dominant hand to pull out a notebook and surreptitiously scrawl ' _Andersen, text me about vampire slaying. Number is XXX-XXXX. Thanks.'_ under the table. I ripped the piece of paper out as I took a bite out of my peanut-butter sandwich, and folded it up before standing up. "Oh, and don't expect me home tonight," I added with a grouchy pout, holding Lu's gaze as I tucked the paper under Andersen's can of pop. "Lilli invited me over after school, she said I looked kinda out of it today. Don't wanna worry her, y'know." _Not that my own sister seems to mind._ I turned around, watching as Andersen surreptitiously slipped the paper out from under the can, slid it back under the table, and skimmed it.

He looked back up at me and winked, saying, "see ya, Emil!" and then mouthing, 'I'll text you'.

Satisfied, I walked past him and tossed out my half-finished lunch, leaving the cafeteria. I guess I'd only be, what, ten minutes early to my next class?

Yeah, sure, why not?

* * *

"And then, he starts _flirting_ with her, and leading her on like he's suddenly gonna fall in love with her or some shit! I can't believe this!"

Lilli Zwingli looked politely concerned as she took a long sip of her hot chocolate, likely trying her damnedest to figure out how to reply to me. "I'm sorry, Emil, that must be awful. Oh, would you like some whipped cream on yours?"

She had a propensity for maintaining civility in the face of chaos (me being the chaos nine times out of ten), which I was typically grateful for. She kept me in check, and she didn't judge me when I went off my rocker.

Right now, however, it was really starting to piss me off.

"Yes, I would love some whipped cream on my hot chocolate," I drawled, batting my eyes in mocking as I added, "and I'll take a cute little sprinkle of cinnamon on the top too. Now, would you at least, I dunno, respond to what I'm saying without beating around the damned bush?"

She sighed and admitted, "well, I don't quite know what you expect me to say. You should know by now I'm no expert with boys." To my surprise, she actually obeyed my facetious request, putting a large swirl of whipped cream on my cocoa and topping it off with some cinnamon she'd retrieved from a cabinet.

"You're right," I said, "girls are more your thing."

"That they are. God, if Alice Vargas wasn't taken and two years older than me…"

I nodded, accepting this change in subject. "She's a bit too air-headed for me, but I guess I can see the appeal. Oxenstierna, though."

"What is it with you and tall, buff folks who look like they could kill you?" Lilli demanded incredulously, even as she shot me a knowing smirk. "You can't pretend I didn't see you checking out Monika Beilschmidt when we were leaving class."

"Speak for yourself!" I scoffed. "I was checking out her older sister and her beautiful car."

Not that Monika's older sister was any more in my league than Monika herself—Julchen was college-aged, and I only knew her because she picked Monika up from school.

Lillie gaped. "Julchen? She's crazy… and she could also probably kill you, which only proves my point."

"Yep," I agreed as I stirred my drink, watching the cream and cinnamon streak across the chocolate as I tried to wipe the dopey grin off of my face.

I was allowed to bask in the silence for just a moment before Lilli seemed to recall something. "Alright, I'm glad we had that little tangent, but that can't be what's gotten you so bothered. Are you okay after last night?"

"With Yong Soo? I'm kinda trying not to think about it." Finally satisfied with the sweet, frothy mix, I took a sip of the hot chocolate, continuing to ignore the fact that my friend was dead.

Lilli let out another sigh. "That's okay for now, I guess, but denial's the first stage of grief, y'know, and I'm not sure if either of us wanna deal with the other four."

I stifled a laugh. "God, I only knew him for three months, Lilli. It's not like he's my father or something."

 _Says the one whose father is actually dead_ , no one said, but we both probably thought it. We sat there in silence for a while, drinking our hot cocoa and trying to find a way to break the tension.

Luckily, her older brother, Basch, interrupted and told me to go home before it got weird- well, _weirder_.

At least, I'd thought I'd escaped total weirdness until, just as I was walking out the door, Basch leaned over and whispered, "I'm onto you."

And, goddamn, if that wasn't creepy, I didn't know what was.

* * *

That particular day was the first of a series of many where concentration was impossible and embarrassment was inevitable. I wasn't sure what had caused it, or how to cure it, but that day was the start of an era of confusing times, and as much as I wanted to blame my feelings on teenage angst and stress from the death of my friend (not that I was openly citing that as a reason anyhow), the shivers down my spine and phantom touches on my shoulder and face and back suggested otherwise.

Not to mention the random puffin that had started following me. Hell, I didn't even _like_ birds! Why would such a stupid creature feel the need to stalk me the entire one and a half-mile walk home from Lilli's house?

I tried to just forget about the fact that puffins weren't native to Minnesota, much less Icelandic puffins like the one flying behind me.

I made my way back home, pretending not to notice the black-and-white menace trailing behind me as he vied for my attention.

I couldn't even use Lucia as a distraction (or, at the very least, proof that I wasn't clinically insane), since she was with her stupid soulmate.

The bird let out an exasperated squawk, trying to pounce at my shoulder as I dodged.

"God, what's wrong with you?" I snapped. "I'm not gonna feed you, why are you following me?"

"Damn, Emil, I know I have a reputation for eating in class, but I'm not about to beg for snacks on the street!"

Well, that definitely wasn't the puffin. I turned around to see Allison Jones scowling at me, seeming either confused or mildly offended or a rightfully concerned cocktail of the two.

"And," she added with a blush, "I'm totally not following you! I'm just gonna meet Arthur, and your house is on the way, okay? Jeez, what's wrong with you? You've been so weird lately."

Flabbergasted, I pointed in the direction of my volucrine accomplice. "I was talking to the bird!" I shot back, as if that made me sound less freaky.

Allie raised an eyebrow. "What bird?"

"That bir-" I stopped as I swiveled back around, only to find that my stalker had finally decided to leave me the hell alone. "Never mind, he's gone."

We stood there for a minute in stilted silence before the rest of her words registered. _You've been weird lately_. I mean, she wasn't lying, but how would she know that? "Whataya mean, 'weird'?"

"You don't remember AP Physics today?" she asked, face suddenly going slack with fear. "God, I _told_ Sakura it was a demon possession, but no, _she_ didn't believe me."

Ooh, this couldn't be good. Allie always sat right next to me in that class (actually, she's sat next to me since grade school, since 'Jensen' and 'Jones' are right next to each other in the alphabet). Physics class that day had been a blur of equations and gravity and crap; who knew what I had done? "Uhh, what? What happened?"

"You were whispering some sort of Satanic shit, over and over again!" she yelled, grasping my shoulders as if she was worried I would dissolve into smoke or something. "I thought you were gonna magic up some sort of death spell or something!"

I was taken aback by the look of sheer terror in her eyes, and even without the glare, her words were almost enough to make me panic. "Magic?" I cried out, utterly perplexed and more than a little unnerved. "I don't even have magic—that's my sister."

Allie didn't look convinced. "Bro, do you even know what you said?"

"... Not exactly," I admitted, biting my lip anxiously as I waited for her to explain what exactly I had said (clearly, it must have been pretty bad). Perhaps this had something to do with the bird that disappeared whenever anyone else was around?

Or maybe I was just crazy. Or possessed by a demon.

But, before I could continue down that stream of thought, Allie shook me (no, literally, she actually picked me up and shook me) back to reality. "That was the look on your face, it was just like that! Don't do it again!"

"It's good, I'm good!" I gasped out just as the wind got knocked out of me—it was no secret that Allison Jones was the strongest girl in our class and I couldn't bench a wet noodle. "Just put me down, please!"

She dropped me like she would a sack of potatoes, and I fell gracelessly onto my ass, yelping at the shocking, stinging sensation of my tailbone hitting the ground.

"You told me you were going to spill your own blood and resurrect the dead," she explained, only slightly calmer. "It sounded like some shit from a horror movie, or something! What the hell is Mr. Kirkland teaching you in AP Lang, anyway?"

"Not that. Cripes." I shook my head—that sure sounded like a Satanic death spell to me. What was happening to me?

"So, is that bad? What does that mean?" she demanded, as if I was some sort of expert on this stuff.

"You're asking me?" I squeaked, my voice cracking embarrassingly as I found myself, for the second time today, completely gobsmacked. "How am I supposed to know? I don't do magic shit!"

"Well, neither do I!" she replied indignantly, hands on her hips.

I rolled my eyes. "I know that!"

"I know you know that!" she barked.

I tried to look down at her, but she was an inch or so taller than me, so it didn't really work. Abashed, I muttered, "then why did you have to say anything, huh?"

"Screw you!"

There was a pause, then she awkwardly added, "um, so, should you talk to Arthur or something?"

"My sister's ex-boyfriend?" I scoffed. "You're joking. I'll just tell Lucia, and hopefully she'll know what the hell is wrong with me."

"Well, fine then!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

" _Fine_!"

Silence, then: "Umm, so I really was planning on going to Arthur's house, so if I could just get around you…"

"Oh, right. Uh, I guess I'll see you in physics class tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah, okay, see ya." And with that, she marched away, refusing to look me in the eye. I couldn't recall a time she'd gotten so cross with someone, so I must've gotten on her bad side.

"Way to go, Emil," I mumbled under my breath, just as my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out. Apparently, I'd gotten a text from Andersen. " _hey, this is mat! u wanted to talk about vampires, right?"_

" _yeah,"_ I replied.

" _imma go look for vamps w/ my friend at 8. lu isn't going bc she has homework,"_ he said, then added, " _wanna come?"_

I opted to ignore the fact that she could easily have gotten her homework done already, had she not been over at Andersen's house slacking off. " _Sure,"_ I replied, and tried to smile as I continued my walk home—at least one thing in my life was going right.

* * *

Everything would've been wonderful, had the puffin not reappeared just as I was opening the door, swooping in and making himself at home in my house.

I charged in, haplessly dropping my schoolbag and forgetting to shut the door behind me as I flailed around, hoping to ward off the idiot bird. "Scram, goddammit!" I yelled as I swatted at it. "I'll call animal control!"

"Ehh, they won't be able to see me anyway," the puffin replied.

Okay, _no_. No, this was too much. Birds don't talk. "God, I really am crazy, aren't I?"

The bird cocked his head. "No one ever said that. Just because you're the only one who can see me, doesn't mean I don't exist."

"How do I prove that?"

"You can't."

I rolled my eyes. "Gee, thanks for that. Please leave."

"Nah, ya bastard, I can't leave!" he retorted, brash and uncouth. "You're supposed to help me pass on."

I raised an eyebrow, bemused by, well, not just the fact that I had a talking bird in my kitchen, but also the words the talking bird spoke. "Pass on? What, like to the afterlife or something?"

"Exactly! You're the King of the Dead!"

Honestly, I was almost offended. Fine, so I had crazy dark circles under my eyes from typical high schooler sleep deprivation (and late night Netflix marathons), and perhaps white-blond hair on a fifteen year-old boy was a bit uncanny, but that didn't make me a zombie, or general of the skeleton army, or whatever the hell the King of the Dead was actually supposed to be.

I shook my head, as if it would shake out my silly inner monologues. "Okay, I've heard enough of this. Get out of my goddamn house while I sort this out."

"But-"

"I'm King of the Dead," I bantered back, hoping that if I played my cards just right, I'd _maybe_ have a dead bird doing my bidding, which was slightly better than a dead bird who refused to listen to me. "That makes you my subject, right?"

The puffin looked taken aback (at least, that's how I interpreted the cocking of his head and the slow, confused blink). "Well, technically, yes, but-"

"Then I can command you to do whatever I want, right?" I interrupted, turning away to retrieve my backpack and walk toward the stairwell that led to my my backpack.

"Yeah, but-"

"Cool," I said dismissively, slinging the bag over my shoulder and making my way toward the stairwell that led to my room. "Leave. Now."

"Fine, ya punk, but I'll be back!"

After that, I got a full hour of blissful silence. I finished my calculus homework (and put the results in Lu's room, since she would probably ask to copy it anyway), made decent headway on an essay for AP Lang, and I was just opening my physics textbook when, suddenly, I blacked out.

When I awoke, I found myself in a barren wasteland of snow and ice, no civilization in sight save for an industrial-looking metal building off in the distance lit by a single yellow bulb that illuminated the frosted tundra around it.

Other than that light, it was completely dark. I distantly thought that I should probably have felt colder than I actually did, given that I was in an icy winter wonderland in the middle of the night without a coat, but I actually felt… comfortable? Almost weightless.

I was shaken from my thoughts by a woman, barely visible in the dim glow of the building's light. "Come on," she said as she grabbed my shoulder, pulling me toward the building, "I need to show you something."

"Who are you and where the hell am I?" I snapped. Was I dreaming? Was I hallucinating? Had I actually been transported somewhere? I couldn't rule anything out, and my lack of knowledge made my temper flare.

The woman let go of my shoulder, her lips turning upward just slightly in an abashed, uncertain smile. "My name is Katyusha Braginsky. Welcome to Siberia, I guess."

Siberia. What the actual fuck.

I shook my head, eyes wide with disbelief. "You've gotta be kidding me."


	13. Fuckboy Sensibilities

"Siberia?!" I yelped, left gaping and drop-jawed at the scene before my eyes.

Katyusha was a beautiful woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, curvaceous and definitely underdressed for the weather in her lovely white sundress. Her pale hair shot gold in the low lighting. If I squinted, I could see that her eyes were the same exotic shade of violet as my own and that they seemed to be staring into my very soul with a panicked intensity that demanded I take her seriously. Her skin was almost inhumanly pale, so sickly looking that she had to be deprived of Vitamin D, but I chalked that up to the fact that she was in Siberia. Who knew when last she'd seen the sun?

Speaking of which, what the hell was _I_ doing in Siberia?

"Your body, it isn't here," Katyusha explained, fumbling for words as though she weren't used to speaking English, "it is… in your room. That is why you do not have frostbite."

Dubious, I held up my arms. Sure enough, they were the same pale white as the woman, my clothing faded as if bleached in the wash. I tried to pinch myself, but my fingers found nothing to grab onto.

Not to mention the fact that I was floating a foot off the ground, I noticed with a start. How had I not seen that earlier?

"Okay," I mused, not disagreeing, "but how the hell?"

The woman grinned bashfully, holding up a finger to indicate that she needed to gather her thoughts.

Finally, she spoke. "You know that you are King of the Dead, do you not?"

I shrugged. "I might've heard something along those lines."

Katyusha nodded. "This is one of your abilities. As my successor, you can separate your soul from your body. This makes it easier for you to help others… you call it passing on?"

"Yeah." Wait, her successor? "You're Queen of the Dead?"

"Oh…." There was another brief pause as she considered this. "Yes, I am. Or, I guess that I was. I am dead now."

Cripes, I was talking to a ghost girl. I couldn't quite decide whether that was cool, creepy, or just plain weird. Hell, I didn't even know the proper etiquette for these situations. Should I be offering my condolences? Was it okay to ask how she had died? Stuck for words, I settled for an awkward, "oh, that sucks," which, honestly, _no freaking duh, of course that sucks._

"There are worse things," she said as she bit her lip, and if she were human, I'd bet she would've been blushing. She didn't seem to like attention, and though her humility was refreshing, I didn't know how to react to it.

"You're so young though," I blurted out. "It can't be pleasant to die this young."

"No, but that is not… no big deal. You will have to deal with many unpleasant deaths. Your job is to help those who cannot rest in peace pass on, and there are worse ways to die than mine."

"Oh. Okay. Umm, so I guess I don't know much about this King of the Dead stuff. What exactly does it entail?"

Luckily, this question seemed to spark something in her mind, and she had a ready (likely rehearsed) response. "You have not heard about it because necromancy is a forbidden art for sorcerers. The act of speaking with the dead is technically heresy."

Wow, there was a sector of magic so horrid that not even sorcerers would touch it? "Sounds like my type of hobby."

"Wonderful," she said as she feigned a smile, her tone melancholy but likely hoping to lift the mood a bit, "because your mission will involve plenty of heresy."

"And my mission is…?"

"To save my family from eternal damnation."

I blinked. She'd just said that, tone blunt and smile unfaltering, and I was left dumbfounded.

"Now, come," she continued as she motioned toward the building (apparently, she hadn't noticed my gaping). "You must see this."

Sure, why not?

* * *

We could float through walls, so breaking into the factory was simple. As we glided through the rooms, I noticed the blood on the walls, the excess of weaponry, and the presence of myriad black spellbooks, some turned to pages with awful labels like "Anti-Love Spell", "Curse of Madness", and "Essays on the Barbaric Nature of Dog-Men".

The alarm bells in my brain cried out, drawing together dots I'd never thought to connect. The word _dog-man_ made me shudder, and the idea of an anti-love spell (wouldn't that just be a hate spell?) only confirmed what was, from what I'd gathered, everyone's worst fear.

Not only were Tino's kidnappers targeting werewolves (these _had_ to be his kidnappers, or this was a terrifying coincidence), but they were also set on destroying his soulmate bond with Oxenstierna.

And… perhaps this had something to do with Lucia and Andersen's soulmate situation? Who knew.

Some rooms had large cauldrons over fire-pits and herbs strewn about, and I glimpsed a man with greasy, brown hair and glazed eyes, muttering the incantations to a dark spell. Katyusha, however, seemed eager to leave that room, as if pained by its very existence, and she practically dragged me behind her to the next room.

Had my body been with me, I might have passed out.

Tino Väinämöinen was barely recognizable (not that I'd known him well in the first place), but the scheming gleam in his eye and his aggressive, hockey-goalie stance was unforgettable.

I inwardly thanked myself for going to every men's hockey game at my school last year.

His hair hadn't been trimmed in months, hanging limply over his neck, though it looked freshly washed and combed. He wore baggy cargo pants with a black tanktop (how was he not freezing?), and his uncovered arms were littered with cuts and bruises of various size and severity. His wrists had deep red scars around them, as if they had been bound by scalding hot wires. There was a pistol in his hands, and he stared directly ahead as he cocked it.

And, of course, he was aiming right at me.

I had to remind myself that my body wasn't here, that any bullets he shot would pass right through me and bury themselves into the paper target taped onto the concrete wall behind me.

The gun went off three times with an earsplitting _bang!_ and each time it hit the bullseye behind me with a flash of purple light, leaving the wall entirely unscathed.

Tino smirked to himself, blowing the remaining smoke from the end of his gun. "That good enough for you, Braginsky?"

I hadn't noticed until that point that there was another man in the room, sitting in the corner. "Yes, that is good enough," he replied as he stood.

Katyusha tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to Braginsky. "My little brother, Ivan."

Well, little was one word for it—goddamn, was this guy tall. He had to be, like, 6'5" or something, and his build was bulky and muscular and generally intimidating, sort of like a bigger, badder, heavier Oxenstierna.

Ivan walked over to Tino, resting a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder as he gave him a contemplative leer. "I wonder, though, Tino."

Tino seemed to falter at that. "About what?"

"I wonder," he repeated with a misleadingly kind smile, "if you will be able to shoot that well when it is your soulmate you're facing, rather than a target."

Wow, that was… callous didn't even begin to describe it. I turned to Katyusha again. "Why is he doing this?"

She shook her head, which either meant she didn't know, or that it was too awful to say. To be honest, I couldn't tell which would be worse.

"I think we've seen enough," she finally said. "I'll get you home before you have to see what happens next."

What? No, I needed more information. "Wait, but-"

"I will explain next time. At this time, you need to go home. I will see you tomorrow."

And with that, everything faded to white.

* * *

Our city was supposed to have snowstorms this evening, but apparently, it wasn't cold enough for snow. Instead, when I came to, I heard the light thrumming of rain hitting the roof overhead.

Typical. How long had I been out? Had I missed dinner? I turned to my alarm clock, which proudly displayed "7:55 PM" in blue LED across the screen.

Five minutes to get from my house to the rendezvous point. Screw dinner, I was late. "Goddammit," I spat out under my breath as I jumped to my feet, zooming down the stairs as quickly as I could manage.

I hardly paid any mind to my mother, who was in the kitchen, heatedly yelling at Lucia about something that was probably superfluous. "Bye, guys!" I called to them, though they didn't hear me. "I'm off to go avenge my friend's death!"

Satisfied with this lack of care, I burst through the front door, slamming it behind me and running seven blocks through the rain to 28th street, where Yong Soo and various others had been found.

I didn't see anyone there. What, had Andersen stood me up? Of course he had, he was Andersen. How could I trust him to-

"Emil, you made it!" a loud voice interrupted my internal monologue from behind.

I turned on my heels. There was Andersen, aiming a flashlight at me, wet blond hair clinging to his face as water dripped haphazardly from his nose and chin.

Of course he hadn't stood me up, that would have been too easy. He had to prove me wrong, make _me_ look like the asshole for showing up late. Which was all his fault, of course. "Well, duh," I sneered. "I wasn't gonna leave a werewolf in charge of the investigation."

"Excuse me?" a new voice called out, deep and deadpan. "I'm the one in charge."

I had to squint to see another boy in the shadows, who was almost as tall as Oxenstierna and just as serenely hot- I mean, serious-looking. Super serious-looking.

But, they weren't the only two lurking about the slums after dark. Another boy, this one peppy beyond what was reasonable for a cold October night, butted in, "no one's in charge, Jan. And if anyone was, we all know it'd be me. I'm the vampire, after all."

My eyes met Andersen's, trying to look unimpressed and slightly annoyed. "You recruited a vampire to your vampire-slaying mission."

"We're _not_ slaying them! God, you're just like your older sis-uh, brother. No respect for the lives of other magical creatures," the vampire shot back, drawing closer so I could see his red eyes and the concerned furrow of his brow. Light brown hair was darkened by the night and the rain, but even so, I finally recognized him.

"Vlad?" I asked, still not entirely believing it even as the words left my mouth. "You haven't been to school in months! The hell happened to you?"

Vladimir simpered at me, fangs as sharp and menacing as ever in the glimmer of the orange street lights. "I've got a newborn to babysit."

A newborn? That sounded like bullcrap Twilight terminology to me. "Oh, and how's that going?" I asked, trying my damnedest to keep my lips from curling into a smile.

He only shrugged and said, "well, he's been wreaking havoc across the city, killing everyone in sight."

"This," I replied, theatrically pinching the bridge of my nose to ward off a fake migraine, "is why we can't have nice things."

Actually, that one was an inside joke, but Andersen didn't catch on. "Yeah, you're right!" he retorted, hands on his hips like a douchier Superman.

I shot him a deadpan glare. "Are you in any place to talk? Lu told me what happened last full moon."

Jan piped up—with an actual pipe in his mouth, no less (who even used those anymore?). "He's got a point, you know. Emma's still afraid that she's gone crazy."

To my surprise, I actually caught a glimpse of Andersen's wince before he covered it with a deft roll of his eyes."Yeah, yeah, I already apologized. At least I'm not the one who's head-over-heels for Berwald."

Heh, well, that came out of nowhere. When had he even noticed that? Dammit, I didn't even have a good comeback.

Instead, I scowled and shot back an irate, "I am _not._ "

Thunder crashed overhead, as if my poorly-executed white lie had unleashed some sort of curse upon the world. I inwardly dared the lightning to strike me—fifty-percent chance I'd be done with this mess for good.

"Hey, there's no shame in it," he insisted coyly, the fire in his eyes unquenchable by even the worst Minnesota storm. "I mean, you could do worse, if you're into the tall, scary and socially awkward thing-"

Lucky for me, before I could blush any redder than I'd already been, Jan cleared his throat, laying a firm hand on Andersen's shoulder. "Weren't we looking for a vampire?" But, before anyone could reply, an agonized and, well, _blood-_ curdling shriek pierced through the air and made us all shudder.

Suddenly, the ever-cocky Andersen looked like he was moments away from wetting himself. "It's close," he whispered, nose twitching uncomfortably. "Very close. I can smell the blood."

Jan nodded, "which direction?"

"It's over there." He pointed directly left, toward a shabby apartment complex about thirty yards off. His eyes were screwed shut, like he was afraid to look. "Not inside it, behind it."

"Got it," Jan assured him as he pulled a stake out of his trenchcoat. "We'll go after it. You stay here and try not to puke."

Wait, a stake? Hadn't Andersen said that vampires impervious to those?

Andersen clutched his stomach and I honestly couldn't tell whether it was for dramatic effect or if he was being genuine. "Not making any promises."

"That's fair," he conceded before everyone but Andersen set off toward the complex, Vlad just a touch faster than the rest of us.

Unfortunately, the vampire was gone by the time we got there, leaving only a corpse and a pool of blood behind.

Jan shrugged, pocketing his stake. "Welp, missed it again."

Vlad groaned, "has anyone ever told you that you're an awful vampire hunter? C'mon, man, using a stake as a weapon just because you don't actually want to kill them?"

Ah, that explained a lot.

"Hey, you guys kill enough as it is," he argued, "better to teach humanity than to seek revenge."

"Spoken like a true pacifist."

"I thought you were on my side."

"Y'know!" I interjected, raising my hand and cutting off any further debate. "I think what we really need is a better way to track the vampire down."

"Well, the original idea was to use Matthias to track down the vampire scent, but with Vlad around…"

Averting his gaze in embarrassment, Vlad cleared his throat and added, "which is why we got Lu on the team."

"Yeah, but he didn't even show up tonight," Jan pointed out, and they were right back to arguing.

Course, I had to intervene. Again. "Maybe you're relying just a bit too much on magic…. Aren't you supposed to be a vampire hunter?"

Jan scratched the back of his neck. "I usually don't get this far. Most of the time, it's a false alarm. I haven't really dealt with many real-life rampaging vampires."

"Clearly, you need better stratagem."

"No shit," Vlad drawled, staring pointedly at Jan, who nodded, unfazed.

"Yeah," he agreed. "How about we put you and Mat in charge of that?"

Haha, how about _hell no._

"Sounds great," I sighed, hoping my dripping sarcasm wasn't lost on them. It's always a shame when a good, passive-aggressive tone is missed by its intended audience.

Vlad gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, which would have been a nice gesture if I couldn't see him glaring at my neck. "Bro, neither of us can deal with him right now, maybe you can get him off our hands?"

I thought back to what I remembered of Jan's sister and Mat- or rather, _Andersen's_ breakup, and how quick, unexpected, and brutal it has been. Jan couldn't have been happy with his friend.

And if the Twilight Saga was a reliable source (and, given my current level of knowledge, I wouldn't be surprised if it was), there was probably some sort of vampire/werewolf rivalry crap I hadn't heard of before.

So, realizing I would have to play the noble mediator, I relented. "Fine, fine, I'll start tomorrow. You both owe me, though."

* * *

"Hey, Emil! Wait up, I need to talk to you!" Matthias called out just as I started off toward home. By this point, the inner-city nightlife was in full force, the buzz of old lights and muffled, drunken voices weaving a seductive charm overtop the low pounding of an electronic bass from a nearby club. It was still raining, ice-cold needles piercing my skin alongside gusts of wind and making goosebumps crop up on my arms and legs.

I sneezed, sneezed again, then impatiently replied, "I don't think we have anything to talk about." Technically, I'd told Vlad and Jan I would start tomorrow, so I was under no obligation to get along with this dickwad for the remaining three and a half hours before midnight.

"Don't be like that," he reprimanded mirthfully as he walked up to me, "I wanted to apologize for being a dick earlier." Naturally, he had an umbrella and it was certainly big enough for both of us to share when we were shoulder-to-shoulder. He seemed to have little respect for personal space, entirely unperturbed by the obnoxious way our shoulders would brush against each other as I tried to walk faster than him, only for him to smoothly and almost-naturally change his pace.

But, try as I might, the boy wouldn't budge, so I gave in and slowed to a normal pace, releasing an exasperated sigh. "What, about me liking Berwald? Water under the goddamn bridge."

He shook his head. "No! Well, that too, I guess. I was talking about how I was treating Lu earlier."

"Oh?" God, I really didn't want to hear this. Either he'd offer a bad apology, and I'd be angry at him, or he'd offer a truly brilliant apology and I'd be angry at him anyway.

I was supposed to be angry at him. He was a jerk.

"I just…" he trailed off. "Well, I don't really know how to act around her."

"You're doing a great job leading her on," I mumbled distantly. "You're so flirtatious, you've almost convinced _me_ to go out with you, and you weren't even going for me."

Andersen either didn't notice my sarcasm, or he didn't care (was he unobservant, or was he just smart enough not to take the bait? Did anyone really know?). "I'm having a hard time thinking of her _that_ way, but I don't wanna give up hope. I thought that it would be easier if I treated her like I'd treat one of the girls on the cheerleading squad—really makes ya think about how the football team does things, huh?"

"Fuckboy sensibilities," I declared with all the pompous disdain of a proper Victorian-era gentleman. I almost cringed, just because I sounded so much like Arthur. Perhaps I shouldn't have taken AP Lang after all, college apps be damned.

But, again, Andersen didn't take the bait. "Yeah, I know. I'd apologize to Lu as well, but I'm not quite sure if she even thinks I did anything wrong."

"If she did, she would've told you."

I gestured toward the right, and we both rounded the corner.

"Figured so," he nodded. "She's incredibly critical, y'know?"

Yes, and the sky is blue. Cats chase mice. Danish is an ugly language. "Trust me, I know," I replied with a smirk, trying and failing to hide that I wasn't so ice-cold as I let on. Before Andersen could have the chance to glance down at me and confirm the telling amusement in my voice, I changed tactics. "You've got her under your spell, Andersen. Don't take advantage of it."

"God, you make it sound like I've got her captive or something." Yeah, but only because he did—who did her heart belong to again? "I never even wanted this. You see how unhealthy this is for both of us, right? She's too dependent on me for a normal relationship—platonic or otherwise—and I'm not even over my last girlfriend yet. It's nice to talk to Lu, but it's clear that she's not getting enough, and I'm already bordering on getting too much."

To imagine that extroverted Andersen would ever feel overwhelmed by _too much_ social interaction with someone was almost laughable. He was literally surrounded by people all day at school; a few hours with Lucia couldn't be so bad, right?

"There's gotta be some upside," I blurted, before wincing and adding, "or at least, some upside that doesn't involve crude flirting or satisfying your hidden homosexual tendencies."

Andersen tried to look confused, though the way he averted his eyes was pretty telling. "Homosexual what-now? I'm straight."

"Enchantments like the one Lu cast on you don't even work without prior attraction. Not to mention that I still see you checking her out. Shouldn't this be just what you wanted: a girl trapped in a man's body?"

That seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. He looked back up at me, eyes wide with open frustration and pain, and I felt like I could see days spent agonizing over this very topic, hours spent wide awake in the middle of the night, tossing and turning in indecision, all contained in one sad glance. He looked depressingly confused, and if I didn't know better, I'd say he looked like he was actually trying not to blow it, like he actually cared about my sister. "I still couldn't date her though," he admitted through gritted teeth, though the tension in his shoulders suddenly lifted as if he were Atlas, and someone had just taken the weight of the world off his back.

His next words came much more easily. "Maybe I could one day," he considered in a musing tone that made me wonder if he knew he was speaking aloud, "but I just can't get over myself for some reason. There's no love there yet; it's just lust, and it's disgusting. I didn't wanna lead her on, but, well…" He paused, blue, heavy-lidded eyes looking wearily at my own. Then, he glanced back out at the sopping roads and dripping buildings and the thick, all-encompassing fog, and sighed, "fuckboy logic."

The dreary aura hanging in the air was so strong that I could hardly believe that this was real—an actual, totally real conversation between a werewolf and a necromancer (or King of the Dead or whatever). I rolled my eyes. "Cripes, you're not supposed to be this self-deprecating." No, like really. Not even if he deserved every word of his own criticism.

Andersen smiled, but it looked forced and tired and just made the scene even more depressing. "Just wait till I get warmed up. I've got plenty of reasons to hate myself."

I snorted. Who even was this guy? "You have a superiority complex, don't you?" Of course, this begged the question: if he compulsively hid his myriad insecurities from others, why was he being so open to me?

Because I'd pried? Because he needed someone he could trust? Because he was my sister's soulmate and he felt like I deserved to know?

Because, deep down, he really needed my help?

"Guilty as charged." He shrugged, letting his smile fade to naught. "Being a dick and overcompensating later is a lot easier than just admitting I'm no good."

Okay, that actually offended me, though. "Throwing my sister's feelings around isn't any easier for anyone than being honest with her—or, hell, _yourself_ ," I sneered, kicking a piece of litter aside as if that would make me look intimidating. "You're letting her get attached before you know if you can reciprocate."

"I won't do it again," he promised, and though I was expecting an irritable bite behind his words, he actually seemed completely, infuriatingly earnest (though his patience was certainly diminishing). "I said I was sorry, and I meant it."

I shook my head, torn between accepting his apology and continuing to coldly refuse his sympathies. "You are so frustrating."

Andersen gawked at me, and he stopped in his tracks in confusion. "What do you mean?"

I halted right along with him, seething. He just looked _so innocent_ right then, so completely bemused by the fact that I was angry with him, that I had to wonder if there was something to that superiority complex theory after all. Perhaps he was so completely thick-skulled that he just had to dodge any criticisms that came his way—unless, of course, they came from his own mind. "I mean," I shot back, voice quiet but venomous enough to match Lucia's, "you're Matthias Andersen, captain of the football team. You're supposed to hang out with a bunch of douchebags and hit on every hot girl in sight. You're _supposed_ to be so completely obnoxious that I couldn't possibly let you near my big sister, but when I talk to you alone… you're not. Why the hell aren't you? Can't you just give me the pleasure of being able to hate you?"

Andersen gaped, and only then did I realize the capacity I had to truly intimidate him which only angered me more. Why should he be scared of me? "Uh… sorry?" he said, apologizing _yet again_.

That was not what I had wanted to hear. "Stop that! You should be punching me in the face or something! Look at me, I'm, like, five-foot-six and you could pummel me if you wanted!"

In fact, now that I thought of it, he hadn't laid a finger on me last Saturday, either, when I'd smacked him upside the head—not once, but twice—for betraying Lucia. Funny how he was the werewolf, and I was the violent one.

There was a long pause before Andersen could finally manage a smile again, that same forced one that screamed patronization. "That wouldn't be very nice," he said, involuntarily pulling his umbrella closer to himself, likely doing all he could to keep from drawing away from me completely. Under his flimsy, unperturbed mask was a boy who was very deeply uncomfortable for… some reason.

However, I paid no mind to that. "Exactly! Stop being nice!"

A fuse blew. Andersen put away the umbrella entirely, even though it was still raining (actually it might have been raining harder by then). Somehow, he made the action of pushing an umbrella together and velcroing the strap around the exterior look frustratedly graceful and… almost badass? I don't even know.

He stepped right in front of me with a sharp inhale, and though I could theoretically have escaped in any other direction, I felt incredibly cornered. His height was suddenly overwhelming, almost like he'd instantaneously grown a few inches, and when he let out his breath, it came in a lupine growl that was so inhuman that I couldn't keep from shivering. "I don't know if you've noticed," he snarled, grabbing me by the shoulders of my soggy wool sweater like it was his last grip on reality, "but most sorcerers think werewolves are subhuman, sociopathic, and live in a state of constant rage."

I'd buy it.

Andersen finally seemed to realize what he was doing, and let go of my shirt. His breathing evened out a bit, but the growling in the back of his throat didn't stop, and I got the feeling that he didn't know how to make it stop. His fists clenched at his sides. "I don't need to prove my stereotype by being angry all the time."

What had that been, then? "You have to fight it, though," I pointed out, though I probably should have kept my mouth shut. "You naturally lean towards being a dick." The cold and the rain finally caught up to me and my whole body shivered.

Andersen seemed to not notice he had started to walk again, leaving me behind in the rain and not waiting for me to decide whether or not I wanted to jog and catch up to him. I did. He didn't even look back as he tossed me the umbrella, and he didn't slow down when I fumbled the catch and had to pluck the umbrella off the soaked concrete. There was something instinctive about his actions that intrigued me, and I wondered if I had happened upon yet another one of his proclivities as a werewolf.

"Why do you want to hate me so badly?" he asked, shaking me from my thoughts.

"Hey," I shot back, still surprisingly sardonic, even for me, "I'm not the one who destroyed Lu's one shot at being in a healthy romantic relationship. She already hated romance before you did this to her."

Both of us seemed to silently agree not to bring up the previous outburst, leaving our own feelings for later. Which was good, because I wasn't about to give this guy a pep-talk or whatever right after all the crap he'd done.

And, at any rate, Andersen didn't look like he wanted a pep-talk anyway. He ran a hand through his hair, trying in vain to make it stick up again in its drenched state. "Is… is she Arthur's ex? He never mentioned her name to me (at least, not that I'd remember), but I heard what happened."

I nodded. "He cheated on her with his soulmate because he didn't have the guts to tell her that he couldn't love her anymore."

"I'm sorry."

Yeah, like I didn't know that already.

"Quit apologizing," I admonished as we turned the final corner to my street. "You didn't do anything to me. And you don't need to get so worked up—or, I guess, if you do, that's fine, but there's no real need. I just want to know one thing."

"And what's that?" he asked as we crossed the muddy front yard to the porch.

Finally shielded from the rain, I gave the umbrella back to Andersen and took off my sweater, which was wet enough that it was only making me feel colder. Rubbing my hands over the goosebumps on my arms, I scowled at him. "If you're so set on falling in love with Lucia and breaking the spell, why cast it in the first place? What aren't you telling us?"

Andersen frowned, fiddling with the buttons of his jacket. "That's a long story."

"And?"

"We're already at your house. If you really want to know, why don't I tell Lucia as well?"

As if on cue, I heard my mother's voice in the kitchen, calling Lucia downstairs and insisting that she stop ignoring her.

I shook my head. "My mom's home, too. You'd have to meet her."

Clearly, he didn't see the point, one eyebrow raised as he gave his gruff reply: "cool."

"She's… kinda clueless about magic. She's already starting to ask why Lucia won't talk to her. A random boy in the house would just make her more confused."

"My human mother literally gave birth to two werewolves and abandoned us when I was fifteen because of it. I'm kinda used to shit like this."

"Well, if you think you can handle it, Andersen, by all means…"

He smiled, more genuinely this time, though his eyes were still clouded over, distracted perhaps by the apparently long story. "Sure, why not?"

It was with that shaky assurance that we walked through the door, fully intending to reveal all the secrets of the magical world to my mother.

Well, this just sounded like a lovely idea.

 **A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT. Sorry this was so late, summer vacation was busier than expected :P. Your reviews are awesome; I'm so glad people are getting excited about this story, especially as the Hetalia fandom continues to dwindle. More reviews would, of course, be lovely - even if it's just a two-word remark. Trust me, all reviews are good reviews. Though, to be honest, just reading my work at this point is so great, so thanks to those of you shy folk who just read in the background! You're awesome, too!**

P.S. Yes, reviewer, Emil totally owes Chiara 30 bucks.


	14. True Love

Sure, I'd been able to leave the house without anyone noticing, but bringing a strange boy into the kitchen definitely attracted attention.

My mother cut herself off in the middle of her tirade to gawk at me and Andersen with wary eyes. "Emil… is this your boyfriend?"

I felt my face heat up, unable to find words, and Lucia's snort of stifled laughter didn't exactly help.

"Ooh, wait," Mom added, suddenly very interested in my sister's soulmate, "tall, blond, handsome, a few freckles on your nose…."

Cripes, I knew exactly where she was getting that description from, and I didn't like it.

"Berwald Oxenstierna!" Mom exclaimed happily, firmly shaking Andersen's hand. "Emil's told me all about you over email! You're-"

"He's _not_ Oxenstierna!" I shot back, incredulous.

Andersen, no longer able to help himself, started _giggling_ like this wasn't an outrage, doubling over in stitches and squawking something incoherent that sounded vaguely like "emails his mom about his crushes!" that was definitely offensive enough to justify punching him in the arm.

That seemed to snap him out of it. "No," he replied as he wiped at the corners of his eyes, "actually, I'm Berwald's older brother."

Mom gave me a sly smile and she looked like she was going to say something else, but I interrupted her.

"He's nothing like him, though! We're not dating."

Was I lying? No. Would my words have convinced anyone of that? Probably not.

But, luckily, Andersen finally decided to be helpful. "In fact, I'm a bit more interested in Lucia, to be honest."

Wow, and he even remembered to use her full name in front of my mother. Smooth.

"Ah. I see," she turned back to Lucia, who was sitting at the table in a blue hoodie with her face covered as she tried to look smaller than she actually was, and gave her a look. "Well, maybe _you_ can get her to talk then."

Lucia started and I caught a glimpse of her panicked eyes under the hood, but Andersen looked unfazed. "Actually," he said, "that's exactly why I'm here."

With that, he walked over to the table and took a seat right next to my sister, taking her hands in his own and rubbing them gently as he continued. "See, I kinda screwed up and she got hurt in the process. I figured that she and her family deserve to know exactly what happened—including you, Ms. Jensen. 'Course, I know Lucia here would rather keep it a secret, but I know from experience that it'd really be best to let you know."

Then, he flashed Lucia a mellow, disarming smile that aimed to soothe her trembling hands and bewildered eyes.

"God, you didn't knock her up, did you?" Mom asked, arms crossed over her waist.

The tips of his ears tinged red, but Andersen shook his head. "No, I didn't get her pregnant. Believe me, I haven't even slept with her. Lu, wanna tell her?"

Even with her hood, I could see that Lucia looked like a deer in the headlights, staring at Andersen in confusion, at a loss for words. Her soulmate continued to rub her shaky hands and she involuntarily leaned into the touch as she turned to look at me, an obvious question in her eyes. I nodded and she bit her lip before sighing and saying, "fine," in a clearly masculine voice as she drew her hands away from Andersen to pull down her hood. "Mom, this idiot turned me into a boy."

Heh, just like removing a bandage: rip it off quick and deal with the damage.

My mom had to do a double-take. Scratch that, she had to do a triple-take. "Umm… what?"

I saw her wobbling, so I gently led her to a free seat across from Andersen. "You might wanna sit down, Mom."

I took the final seat at the table and shot Andersen an angry glare _(you started this mess, dude)_ as Mom and Lucia both fumbled for words.

Those two had never been able to communicate effectively. My mom was an ambitious, bubbly businesswoman, and Lucia was an uptight, introverted sorceress—not exactly a winning combination.

"How- but you-"

"Well…" Lucia rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm a sorceress. Surprise?"

 _Nice try, Lu, but if I have to call you storebror now, you ought to start calling yourself a sorcerer._

"I always thought it'd be Emil."

"What?" me and Lucia yelped in unison.

She… she knew that magic was a thing?

Mom shrugged. "Well, yeah, I mean, he's the one with the purple eyes. Just like your father, you know." Without giving either of us enough time to even consider asking another question, she turned to Andersen. "So you're a sorcerer as well?"

Andersen gave me a shit-eating grin that said _I told you so_ , then meekly replied, "no, I'm a werewolf."

He flinched at the word 'werewolf', likely expecting some negative judgment from my mom, but she just nodded. "Okay, but then how did you do this? And, more importantly, why? Just for aesthetics? Lucia _does_ make a handsome boy."

"Stop that," Lucia muttered, pushing that one unruly lock of hair behind her ear, only for it to stick out again. "He had someone cast a spell to get rid of his soulmate. I assume you know what a soulmate is?"

Mom smiled, "of course I do! I'm not kidding when I say I still feel a special connection to Gunnar."

Gunnar was my father, by the way. And… my father was apparently a sorcerer? Sweet. Either way, what she had claimed was definitely in line with what I'd heard about this soulmate nonsense—after Dad died, their bond wouldn't have gone away; it would have left a little piece of him inside my mother's heart to carry with her forever.

Or, uh… some romantic crap like that. It wasn't like I'd specifically done research on this.

Then Mom got this contemplative look on her face that made her forehead scrunch up and her lips pull into a tight line, and she squinted at Andersen. "So you're my daughter's soulmate?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"And you wanted to _get rid of her_?" she bawled, suddenly furious.

My mom is subject to maddeningly quick mood swings. Beware. Lucia always says I inherited that trait from her, but I beg to differ—she can go from cheery to enraged faster than I can even comprehend.

"It's not like that," he promised. "Like I said before, I screwed up. That's the other reason I'm here: I never told any of you why I did it."

No one dared interrupt him as he told us about his brother's kidnapped soulmate (which I'd already heard about, but Mom needed background), the man who'd threatened him, and his ultimate decision to have Arthur cast a spell to get rid of his soulmate.

After he finished, Lucia furrowed her brow. "So, the person who has Tino, whoever he is... he's after you as well?"

I noticed that Andersen had finally stopped holding my sister's hands, opting instead to anxiously drum his fingers on the table. "Yeah- or, at least, he was at one point. I think I'm probably in the clear now, since I cast that spell."

"But, what happens if you break the spell?" I blurted out and I had to keep my foot from tapping on the hardwood floor. I wasn't supposed to be nervous, was I? This was just Andersen. Why should I have cared if he was kidnapped?

"Well," Andersen shot back, tongue-in-cheek, " _when_ we break the spell, I don't really know what happens. But, does it really matter, so long as we rescue Tino and take out the kidnapper like we were planning in the first place?"

I couldn't argue with that. "True. I guess this doesn't change things too much from the original plan. There's just a little more at stake."

Originally, I'd just said that for politeness' sake, because I was still secretly hoping I'd gain the ability to hate Andersen completely, but as I looked back at Lucia, the words found new meaning. She was looking at Andersen's left hand, still rapping on the table, and she took it with both her own, putting it to her lips.

Andersen didn't draw back, but he definitely looked bemused and not the least bit flustered by her.

This wasn't just his life at stake—it was Lucia's, too. I couldn't afford to forget that.

Finally, Lucia gingerly set his hand back down on the table, smiling softly as she turned to her left. "What do you think of all this, Mom?"

Mom blinked, as if she had forgotten that she existed for a few minutes. She gave Andersen a stern look that was hard to read, then turned to Lucia. "I think your soulmate's an idiot."

I stifled a snort. Sometimes, even after living under the same roof as her and, y'know, _being her son_ , I still forgot that underneath her cheerful exterior, she was just as cold and blunt as the rest of us. It was kind of refreshing to see that side of her, actually. This side wasn't quick to anger or make fun—it just stung a bit.

"I can't deny it," admitted Lucia, her little smile giving way to a full-on snarky smirk. She looked at Andersen, as if expecting him to argue.

"What?" he asked with a shrug. "I can't, either. You don't wanna know how low I scored on that internet IQ test last week. Berwald told me I should probably get my head checked."

I couldn't help it, I started laughing. Luckily, I wasn't alone; Lucia let out a low chuckle as well. "Look at it this way," I protested as I tried to catch my breath (my chest was still heaving involuntarily, and I could hardly speak). "At least he's self-aware."

"But is a self-aware idiot really an idiot?" Andersen asked.

"You'd have to be an idiot to think otherwise," Lucia answered, matter-of-fact. "But really, Mom, you're okay with all this?"

"Don't see why not. Just don't get yourself killed, and we won't have any problems."

Those words were probably the best support we could get from our Mom, so Lucia and I accepted this. I finally excused myself from the room to finish my homework, but not before Andersen asked me to show him to the door (as if he couldn't find it himself).

I opened it for him as he put his shoes on, distantly wondering what he was going to say to me—and he was definitely going to say something to me, because honestly, why else would he call me out here? "Night, Andersen," I mumbled as he zipped up his jacket.

"Are you really still using my last name?" he asked with a pout. "It makes me sound old. Why not just call me Matthias?"

Well, technically, I was still trying to hate him, but I was quickly giving up on that goal. "Fine. Night, Matthias. Anything else you wanted to say?"

"I sounded really confident back there, but I really don't know how well this spell-breaking thing is gonna work out. I… I'll try, but she's already starting to make me a bit uncomfortable. Douchebaggery was my last defense."

"Well, even if you were threatened, you're the jerk who got us into this mess," I replied with a fake smile as I held the door open and motioned for him to walk through. "You knew the consequences when you underwent that spell."

He walked out onto the porch. "Yeah, I know. Like I said, I'll try. See you tomorrow, Emil."

"Night, Mat."

And then I slammed the door and ran upstairs before anyone could call me out on using a _goddamn nickname on Andersen, holy crap._

But, as I was leaving the entryway, I swore I saw something twitch out of the corner of my eye, and had I actually been listening, I might have heard a stifled sob.

I hadn't been listening, though, so I didn't, and I wouldn't hear of it for a long while later.

* * *

"Emil, you're not part of the vampire hunt," Lucia said resolutely as she zipped up her black jacket, which was a bit tight but otherwise perfectly fine. She made her way to the doorway, where she put on an old pair of men's hiking boots we'd found in the closet a few weeks back and began to lace them up.

I rolled my eyes. That day at school, Jan had specifically told me to meet up with Andersen at some point today, but of course no one had informed Lucia of these plans. "Yes, I am. I'm their head strategist. You can ask Matthias or Jan if you don't believe me."

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure," she replied aloofly as she pulled out her phone and began texting, probably to disprove my claims. Satisfied, she stood there for a moment with a small smirk on her face, looking at me like I was just as cute as I was _completely incorrect_ (ha, right), then her phone buzzed and she looked back down.

Her face fell. "When you were out yesterday and you came back with Matthias… you were hunting vampires?"

Noting her concern, I tried to backpedal at least a little bit, "well, hunting is a strong word. See, Jan's a pacifist, so-"

"But, you were in close proximity to a vampire?" Her hands were on her hips, and with her larger-than-usual stature, I felt myself wavering.

Of course, my only defense was teenage sardonicism. "Duh. You _obviously_ weren't gonna help me, so instead, I gave Matthias my number yesterday and he got me in the group."

I had wanted to say more, but she cut me off there, "you gave Matthias your number?" The look on her face was suddenly frighteningly smug and she look uncannily like Mom had last night when I'd introduced Matthias.

Averting my gaze, I replied, "yeah."

Lucia pocketed her phone then took a step closer and narrowed her eyes at me as I tried not to wince. "Are you sure you don't have a thing for him?"

God, why? I almost choked on my spit as I spluttered for something dignified to say. Unfortunately, all that came out was, "eww, gross," which wasn't the most convincing argument (though, I promise, I definitely didn't have a thing for Andersen, I was way too classy to fall for someone with hair that stupid).

"Yeah, sure," Lucia agreed, though now she seemed uninterested in whether or not I had the hots for her soulmate. "Well, I guess if you _have_ to be on the mission, lead strategist isn't so dangerous. Do you really have to come with me right now, though? I was really just gonna hang with Matthias, do some homework, and maybe talk about vampires a bit."

Though I didn't disbelieve her, and I was almost ready to just give in, I remembered Matthias' uneasy words last night. Even if Lucia didn't think I was doing them any favors by being there, I might as well try to keep them from embarrassing each other—or worse, themselves. "Trust me, you want me with you."

"Oh, well…" she seemed to consider this for a moment, skeptical but not closed-minded, before she gave me a shrug. "I guess you can come. Just don't gag when I'm in the same room as him. Or swoon."

This seemed fair, so, realizing it was only twenty degrees out (though there was still no snow), we both fetched our hats and mittens. We made our way outside, stealing Mom's little red convertible and heading off towards Andersen's house.

* * *

"Look at it this way," I explained half an hour later as I pointed at a map of the city. I was holding an uncapped red Sharpie, and it left a big inky dot on the thin paper as I spoke. "If we put a pound of garlic here—" I lifted my Sharpie and made another large dot a few blocks over— "and we put a pound of garlic here, then we can corner it right here." I circled a large area between the two dots, and turned to look at my sister and her soulmate.

Matthias clapped (facetiously, perhaps? Who knew), but Lucia looked nonplussed. "Wouldn't we have to find a way to block off the other cross streets? And what if the vampire isn't even within those bounds when we set up the garlic?"

"That's where we come in," I replied, ready for her badgering. "There are two cross streets and one dead end between Point A and Point B." Realizing I hadn't specified what points A and B were, I quickly labeled the two dots accordingly. "That means there are five conceivable exits for the vampire. I propose we find the hardest three to guard and have Matthias, Vlad, and Jan take those. You can take another one, and I can take the easiest one (heavily armed, of course). That way, you don't have to worry about my safety, and the chances of escape are lower."

"Are you suggesting that I'm not as good at guarding a street as those three numbskulls (no offense, Matthias)?"

"None taken," Matthias said with a smile, though his teeth gritted as he waved his hand dismissively.

I twirled my marker as I replied, unimpressed, "Lucia, you've never even seen a vampire before."

She sighed. "Fair."

"Anyway," I continued, "to answer your second question, we'll have to keep watch every night we can until we hear a victim within that vicinity. Given the statistics, it should only take three to four attacks maximum before it strikes there again. I made sure to pick its most popular feeding spot. Its feeding habits are becoming more regular, so we know it'll attack once every three days. At that rate, we should catch the vampire within two weeks. Any objections?"

Lucia smirked. "Yeah. Are you done yet? Matthias and I were gonna study."

"C'mon, Lu," Matthias chided mirthfully, though the way his eyes darted toward me cried for help, "there's no reason why he can't do homework with us as well. He's taking the same level classes we are anyway." He turned to me. "How's AP Physics going? I took it last year, it was a lot of fun."

I ignored Lucia's indignant huff, replying, "just fine, no help needed. I could use a bit of help with my German homework, though."

Matthias' eyes lit up at that. "Well, lucky for you, I'm fluent in German. Whatcha studying?"

The conversation continued like this for another hour or so, reviewing and studying and doing bits of homework. All of us were in Precalculus, —Lucia was on an honor's track, and I had tested out of Algebra entirely—and as such, we all had the same homework for that class. As I finished up question #17, I looked over to notice that my sister was moving right next to Matthias and pointing ot his notebook, the crown of her head lightly grazing his chin. Matthias was chewing his pencil, answering each flirtatious question and flamboyant remark she shot his way with steadily increasing anxiety.

Begrudgingly, I realized that he was right: his fuckboy persona really was the only thing holding him together.

Trust me, I hated him—was trying to hate him—but I was also starting to feel bad. Lucia was more than a little overbearing, and whatever dark magic was working in her head and heart certainly didn't make her any less intimidating. Not to mention that like this, she was bordering on clingy.

Matthias finally seemed to get his nerve when Lucia made something that sounded sort of like an innuendo (though I couldn't be sure; I'm not exactly an expert on sex jokes and euphemisms). Setting the pencil down with white knuckles, now battered with bite marks, he opted to chew his lip instead, pulling very obviously away from Lucia and moving closer to me. He flashed me a small smile, nothing like his normal confident ones, and asked me how to find a limit as X goes to infinity.

Luckily, I knew limits like I knew the palm of my hand, so I rattled off the answer while I spared a glance back at Lucia. She was staring down at her notebook, knees folded and arms crossed as though she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

After I finished, there was a long, awkward silence. No one spoke for about ten minutes, and after I wrote my last response to the last question of my math homework, I excused myself. Both Matthias and Lucia gave me something that I could only define as a longing gaze, but this only made me more uncomfortable. Katyusha was probably going to summon me soon, anyway, I reminded myself as I backed out of the room.

It made me think, though, as I stole the car keys from Lucia and drove back home. If they were so perfect for each other, why did they need me so badly? Shouldn't they be able to sort this out themselves?

What they really needed was some damn communication, not that either of them would go for that. Lucia was shy and tended to hide her true thoughts with scathing remarks and relentless teasing (which was probably why she'd been so forward with Matthias in the first place, no matter how this soulmate thing affected her reasoning). Matthias definitely seemed to be more on the evasive side of the spectrum, and though he was completely willing to admit his imperfections to me, he wasn't about to do so with his supposed soulmate.

Right, because it's not like soulmates were made for this specific purpose or anything. They were totally _supposed_ to be entangled in a ridiculous waltz, trying desperately not to step on their own feet whilst they repeatedly stomped on the others' instead.

Animals, both of them. I guess I had to be the mature one.

But, at this point, I wasn't sure how long my _own_ fuse was. Between vampire hunting, avenging my friend's death, necromancy, and AP Lang homework, I didn't really have any time or energy left for matchmaking.

 _Doesn't mean you can't try, though_ , I thought to myself as I pulled into my driveway. _Doesn't mean you can't try_.

* * *

At least this time I was prepared to black out in the midst of my homework. I'd made sure to do the more intensive work first, so by the time I was called upon by Death itself, I was lying comfortably on my bed in the dark with my reading light on, leafing through my history textbook. If my sister happened to walk in, she'd simply assume I'd fallen asleep and leave me be.

Once again, I found myself in a wasteland of ice and snow in the middle of the night, wind blasting white flakes right through me. The building was closer this time, only about two meters from where I stood, three storeys high and smoke spewing out of the tall chimneys. "Welcome back," said Katyusha from behind me in a cold, sullen, and decidedly unwelcoming tone.

I spun around to face her and gave her a wry smile. "Hey. You ready to tell me what's going on, and maybe how I can help?"

"Yes, I think so," she replied as she cast her eyes above my head toward the foreboding building. "Let's go."

And, again, she led me to the recesses of the building, but this time she passed right through the shooting room (since it was empty). "They are in Tino's bedroom," she explained, as we walked through one final wall.

Apparently, Katyusha's definition of a bedroom was vastly different from my own. This wasn't a bedroom—this was a jail cell, with a blanket on a slab of concrete for a bed and no other furnishings. Tino seemed content, though, sitting on his concrete rectangle with his back to the wall as he ran a hand through his hair. Ivan stood beside him, messing with some shiny metal chains on the wall.

Shackles. He was gonna put shackles on him.

"For your own good," Ivan said when Tino raised an eyebrow at him. "It is already October 29th; All Hallow's Eve and the Harvest moon are only a few days away. We would not want you to turn, would we?"

Tino seemed to accept this, and he offered his wrists, which were immediately constrained by the silver cuffs. He hissed in pain.

Well, that explained the scars. But, wait…

"It's not the 29th, though," I mused, thinking back to my essay due _tomorrow, the 23rd._ "Why would he lie?"

"To make him panic," she replied, eyes narrowed. "He needs to remind Tino that he is nothing but a filthy dog."

Cripes. "That's really what Ivan thinks about him?"

"That's what he thinks of all of them. Most sorcerers do, actually, but Ivan is an... well, a very extreme case. It is not his fault though. He watched me be killed by a pack of werewolves. Then, he killed every single member of the pack for revenge."

The blood on this man's hands…. Now I understood Katyusha's sobriety. She'd never asked for any of this. Still, because I needed to know _everything_ , I pressed her further. "And that wasn't good enough for him?"

Her face fell, and her head slumped down a bit as she faced the ground. I could imagine tears welling up in her ghostly eyes, but none appeared. "No, it was not enough. He has resorted to necromancy, the dark kind, the kind that was forbidden centuries ago."

"What kind of necromancy is that?" I asked, eyes wide with curiosity. Forbidden stuff sounded fun.

She seemed to catch the eagerness in my tone, and she glared at me darkly. "He wants to bring me back to life and he has to destroy other people's lives to do it. The magic of life and death is some of the most powerful in the world, and only one force can override it."

Life. Resurrection. Giving the Dead another chance to walk the Earth.

I couldn't help it, I choked up. Memories that I tried so hard to block out flooded into my head. I remembered every time since I was five years old that my mother had looked out the window, wanting something more, wanting her soulmate... Could I give her that? I met her gaze with a stare that I hoped equaled hers in intensity. "What force is that?"

Katyusha gave me a sad smile, and though the ice in her eyes died down, it didn't melt completely. "Love," she said. "True love."

Needless to say, I gagged. Such an intense buildup, with such wondrous, forbidden forms of magic and the possibility of newfound life, all reliant upon… love?

I guess the Beatles were right: all you really need _is_ love.

"It's not so ambiguous as you are thinking," she clarified. "To resurrect one human, one must break the bond between two sets of soulmates. Once a sorcerer can convince two couples to break their bond forever, and he is powerful enough to collect the magic contained in that bond, then he will be able to bring back the life he has lost. You cannot bring someone back from the dead, just because you love them so much."

Wow, okay, never mind. This was still super dark—dark enough that I didn't cringe at her grammar. "Isn't there an easier way?"

Katyusha grimaced. "There is one, but we will not get into that today. Now, is that all you needed to know?"

"I think so," I replied. "So, Ivan's targeting werewolves because you were killed by them."

She nodded. "Yes."

"And he wants to break their bonds because that's the only way to bring you back to life?"

Another nod. "Yes."

This was all wonderful, but how was I supposed to help? I technically wasn't even part of the mission to save Tino, and good luck getting Lucia to believe this story. "Alright, and how the hell do I convince anyone else that this is true?"

Katyusha looked out at Tino, who was lying uncomfortably on his cement slab, trying to find a way to sleep. Ivan gave him one last leer before turning out the lights and leaving him alone in the dark. "Do not worry about that right now," she commanded me, voice low and stern.

With that, she grabbed my hand and lead us over to the next empty room. "Next time," she continued now that we were somewhere quiet, "I will go to your place instead. I need to have you do something. Before then, you will need lilac, mint, holy water, two copper coins, a piece of jade, a moonstone, and a silver dagger."

"What?"

"You will be performing a…" she struggled for a word, before deciding on, "spell."

"Okay," I said.

"It is important to the mission," she added, though this seemed almost insincere.

Perhaps this was how I'd save Tino and help Ivan recover? Maybe it would allow her to pass on? I had no reason to distrust her, even if she _was_ suddenly being awkward, so I tried to recall her list. "Alright. Jade, mint, lilac, holy water, coins, dagger?"

"And a moonstone. Make sure the coins are copper and the dagger is silver."

I'd have to raid Arthur's house and the Magic Club classroom tomorrow. "Got it."

Luckily, Katyusha's stilted unease faded and she actually gave me a smile as she exclaimed, "wonderful! Oh, and also-"

"WAKE UP!" cried a voice that sounded eerily familiar as I bolted up in my bed.

I rubbed my eyes, which felt heavy after being dead for an hour, and looked blearily around my room for someone—or some _thing_ —that could have made that noise.

"Down here, in front o' ya!" the voice hollered from… on my lap? I looked down, and my eyes met an ill-tempered puffin.

Lovely. "What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go away."

"You were with _her_ , weren't you?" the puffin snarled. Honestly, I didn't even know puffins _could_ snarl (oh, who was I kidding? In a normal world, puffins weren't even supposed to speak!)

And, cripes, there were about 4 billion 'her's that he could have been referring to. "I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific."

"The old Queen!" he yelled, feathers ruffling impatiently. "You don't understand, the bitch is lying to you!"

For a brief moment, I had to wonder, "why would she lie to me? Her brother has gone crazy because of his grief and she needs someone to set things right so that she can pass on."

"That's true, but you don't understand-"

"What, that you can't wait your turn to pass on like a normal person- or rather, a normal bird? I've got priorities and you aren't one of them." I heard my mom call me down for dinner so I pulled down the covers and stood up.

Still, the bird had the gall to keep rambling. "I've been dead for eight years, four months, and seventeen days—much longer than she has. I saw her die and I saw her plan every single move strategically like a game of chess. She was a necromancer, so she can't pass on, Emil. It's impossible for her to, you need to watch out-"

"Bullcrap," I said, though that may have been biased by the tantalizing scent of smoked salmon wafting into my room as I opened the door. "Please leave."

"Just remember this," he admonished as he flew into the hallway, "a necromancer can only resurrect the dead at the cost of his own life."

And then he was gone in a creepy flash of black and white and bright orange.

Good riddance, if you ask me. I'd been wanting salmon for weeks and he was the only thing holding me back.

 **A/N: Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I'm glad you like my fic, and I'm sorry these updates are taking so long; I'm trying to write ahead so I can update more quickly in the future, but even then... Well, AP Calc is a bear. I shall try though. Positive encouragement is super helpful.**


	15. Blind Deceit

The next two weeks were hell. Matthias and Lucia were still in the throes of their awkward dance, and neither seemed too keen on stopping. I tried to intervene a couple times, but I could barely get a word in before they both shot me an assortment of dirty looks (Matthias' ranged from "don't tell her I'm not into hugs" to "just go away, leave me to die", while Lucia's said something closer to "bitch please, don't get between me and my man, I will _cut you_."). So, defeated, I only spoke to one of them if the other was in a different room—or, even better, a different building. Whenever we met for vampire business, I would talk at them in a clinical manner, completely removed from whatever war they were waging. Otherwise, I just avoided them entirely.

Speaking of vampire business, that'd gone to pot as well. Just as we set up a plan, the vamp seemed to figure out how to move around. One night, there would be a murder in the center of the city; another, the monster would target a gated community in a rich suburb on the outskirts. Without any sort of finite pattern, the plan fell to pieces, and the entire span of the city was simply too large an area for a werewolf to scent a vampire, even when Vlad was away. Every three days, when we knew the vampire would make its move, we'd essentially split up and choose random streets until the radio announced another murder.

After one such night, I came home late and got ready for bed in silence, ignoring my mother's endless ranting at Lucia (who'd opted to stay in this evening). Vaguely, I recall hearing something about homeschooling, but I was too tired to care at the time. I reached over to turn off the lamp on my nightstand, glancing down at the two copper pennies that lay there. Next to them sat a single moonstone from Arthur's collection, and inside the drawer there were some herbs and a knife.

Katyusha had completely left me hanging. Now it was really two days away from Halloween and the looming Harvest Moon, and there was still no sign of her or _any_ ghost, really. That goddamn puffin didn't even show up.

But, I didn't have the energy to be bothered by this, and I was sleep-deprived anyway, so once the lights were off and my head hit the pillow, I was out cold.

Then, at two in the damned morning, it happened.

Katyusha's silent entrance was enough to startle me awake. I sat up, shivering at the unsettling feeling of a presence in the room, and turned on the light.

There she was, glancing over my things with wide eyes. "Hello, Emil," she greeted, though she looked distracted.

I yawned in reply, stretching and cracking the joints in my arms and neck. "The mint and lilac are in the drawer," I mumbled, voice scratchy and hazy from sleep. "This is all okay, right?"

"Yes," she affirmed with a nod, "it is all just fine. All I wanted to do was check up on you! The ritual must take place on All Hallow's Eve."

 _All Hallow's Eve,_ I repeated to myself. Where had I heard that before? The words echoed in my mind until I recalled Ivan's words two weeks ago. Something about Tino turning..."on the full moon?"

"Exactly. A full moon on the Day of Heathens allows for miraculous things to occur," she explained, pausing for me to reply.

But, since this all seemed legit (full moon + Halloween = cool necromancy? Makes sense), I really didn't have much to say, so I just shrugged and muttered, "cool."

She gave me a smile, though it seemed stretched and unnatural, like she'd forced it. "That night," she continued, "I will need to meet you in the flesh. We will be going to a forest near here. I will lead you to the proper place. The ritual needs to take place exactly there."

"Got it," I told her, though I still had lingering questions. What would happen if I released her soul, only to realize that Berwald's soulmate was still in trouble? It looked like Ivan had been planning to act soon. What if it was already too late to help him? "This…. Will Tino be alright until then? I know Berwald and Arthur—his soulmate and a friend—are still looking for him, and if it's too late… I want to be able to tell them that."

Her fake smile only grew broader and stiffer, as if her face was molded like a Barbie-doll's, plastic and superficial. "No, it will not be too late," she promised me, voice wavering. "It will be right on time."

"Alright…" I drawled, cocking a brow in equal parts confusion and suspicion. I might have pressed for an explanation had it not been 3AM.

Instead, I yawned. "Is that all you needed to tell me?"

Katyusha nodded fervently. "Yes, thank you! I will see you in two days."

And that was about the depth of my attention span in the middle of the night, so after she had me write down a set of coordinates leading to the forest, I slumped back down into my bed as I mumbled a sleepy, "g'night," not even bothering to check when she left. I heard a door slam in downstairs as I nodded off, but not even that was enough to keep me from falling asleep.

In the morning, I would have deep bags under my eyes to remind myself that it wasn't just a dream.

* * *

I was expecting more of the same at school the next day, but as I bought my lunch and walked across the cafeteria, trying to avoid my sister, I spared a glance at Matthias. Something was decidedly very… different.

For one, Matthias wasn't even smiling. He was sulking as he took a sip from his can of root beer, completely ignoring the brown paper bag he'd packed for himself. For another, he was completely alone. Jan Mulder wasn't there messing with him, the egotistical jocks were on the other side of the cafeteria, and Lucia wasn't even flirting with him. Actually, she wasn't even in the cafeteria, as far as I could see, which was disturbing.

I turned around, tossing an apologetic look at my confused friends. They waved me on, though I knew I was sure to get teased for this later. I sure as hell wasn't crushing on Matthias, but Lilli and Raivis thought otherwise.

That was okay, though. I wanted to know what happened to my sister.

Matthias looked up at me as I pushed in my chair, which screeched painfully across the linoleum floor.

I looked at him as he took out his cellphone and started texting.

I said, "hey."

He said, "hey."

"Where's Lu?" I asked.

"Fuck if I know," he replied.

Haha, right, so…. What the hell? He sounded angry and defensive and confrontational, like he was totally willing to pick a fight with me, but the way he stared at the ground told me that he'd definitely screwed up somehow.

But, since I'd already decided to be the mature one weeks ago, I let out a sigh and tried to steady my breath. "Matthias, what happened to my sister?"

His lower lip already looked bitten raw, but that didn't keep him from gnawing on it as he tried to come up with a response. "Well," he mumbled, gaze still averted, "last night, I finally told her to fuck off, and…"

Cripes, this was probably when I'd heard the door slam. "And?"

"And then," Matthias continued, albeit reluctantly, "we argued for a bit, then she kissed me, and… I kissed her back, and… god, it was awful."

"What, the kissing, or-"

"No, that was great," —here I had to restrain myself from gagging— "but we started yelling afterward and we both said some pretty shitty things and, well, I walked out on her…." He ran his fingers through his spiky hair, groaning at the memory as his eyes squeezed shut. "God, Emil, I fucked up."

Well, he wasn't wrong, but that wouldn't be a very encouraging thing to say. Instead, I finally opened my box of raisins as I scowled at him. "Honestly, I don't know what you were expecting, sitting and waiting for her to overwhelm you. You could've just told her you were uncomfortable, y'know."

"No shit," he spat back, though he sounded angrier with himself than he was with me. He grimaced. "I thought I could handle it, but _no_ , of _course not_. I'd have to be, y'know, _competent_." Again, his fingers leafed through his hair, breaking the dried gel in it and making it flop back on his head.

I really needed to get him to quit beating himself up—that was supposed to be my job. Rolling my eyes, I flicked a raisin at him, which bounced off his nose and fell to the table. "Stop that," I chided lightly, realizing that perhaps criticizing him would only make things worse at this point. "Treating yourself like crap isn't going to help anything. Why not just give it some time, then try to talk to her?"

When I looked back at him expectantly, he was staring dejectedly at the raisin on the table, likely just trying to avoid my gaze. "She probably won't want to see me," he murmured as a gelled clump of hair fell in his face. He didn't even bother to push it away.

Cripes, what a downer. And this was coming from _me_ , the brother of the world's most cynical cynicist. My teeth gritted and my fists clenched as I grappled for words, which, of course, only led to an angry response. "You're her soulmate! She physically can't stay away for too long. It would be manipulative to avoid her for more than a few days."

"Can you tell me how not to manipulate her, then?" he yelled, loudly enough that a group of girls at the next table swiveled around to look at us. Matthias paid them no mind, blithering on as he flailed. "It seems like whatever I do, I can't keep from toying with her emotions! There's gotta be some way to make her more reasonable, right? Emil, I don't have the patience for this, and I feel like a piece of shit every time I talk to her."

I shot the girls a dirty look, and they seemed to take the hint, turning back to their own conversations. "Hey," I said as calmly as I could manage, "it's not completely your fault. Last time you fought with her, she started performing spells on herself to suppress the bond. It was her choice to stop doing that. That's probably why she's expecting you to be all couple-y."

Matthias gaped at me, as if this was some sort of realization…. Had they not talked about that before? "Wait, so she could've avoided this whole…" He gestured vaguely, grappling for a word, before settling on, "thing?"

"Brouhaha," I inserted with a nod. "It's a brouhaha."

"Is that even a real word?" Mat blurted, looking at me cross-eyed. "It doesn't sound like a real word. Brooo-ha… _ha_. Brou. Haha. What the fuck?"

He continued to try out the word 'brouhaha' in various intonations and emphases, and I couldn't do anything but shake my head. Finally, unable to help myself, I let out a loud snort of laughter. "Sure it's a word."

The noise that escaped Matthias' lips is one that I can only think to describe as an indignant harrumph. "Well, I'm not using it. That's a fucking dumb word. You and your _brooo_ -ha-has," he scoffed, though he was clearly trying guys damnedest not to smirk.

"Debacle, then," I conceded through another bout of barely-contained chortles.

"How do you pull words like that out of thin air?"

I shrugged. "AP Lang."

He stole a single French fry from my long-forgotten and likely cold school lunch, chewing thoughtfully before he replied, "okay, that's fair. Still, though. She could've stopped this?"

"Yes," I shot back with a single, jerky nod, "she could've and I'm kinda surprised she didn't. She seems to like hiding her feelings, so it's weird that she'd decide not to suppress something like this."

"I guess I'll have to find out why then," he said as he let out a small sigh—one of those signs that makes me think the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

Luckily, I had practiced hating him enough that shaking off any feelings of pity wasn't such a difficult task. Pity wouldn't be helpful right now, not when Lucia was being an ice queen.

Especially, _especially_ not when Matthias Andersen thought that he could fix it himself.

"No, _I'll_ find out!" I countered as quickly as I could, trying in vain not to sound desperate.

Matthias looked bemused and mildly offended, brow furrowed as he opened his mouth to speak.

I didn't let him. "You'll just make it worse. For now, just come up with a good apology for tomorrow (and maybe an explanation, too). I'll talk to her tonight."

He closed his mouth, the lightly freckled tips of his ears glowing pink. "Oh. Uh, okay. I guess you can do that then."

Then, likely in a rash attempt to change the subject, he snatched my lunch tray and started eating my food.

I slapped his hand away from the tray, shoving it a few inches back toward me. "Hey, don't steal my lunch! Get your own."

Matthias rolled his eyes. "You're not even eating your meatloaf, though."

"That's because it's gross. And I'd probably get E. Coli or something."

I didn't know seventeen-year old boys had puppy dog eyes until that very moment, when his teal-blue eyes met mine with such youthful, naïve indignance that I almost gagged.

I let go of the tray. "Just don't take my sugar cookies," I griped as he finished up my meal.

* * *

"Your boyfriend's an idiot," I told Lucia as she walked into the kitchen, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and holding it under the tap.

The sound of running water blocked out her mumbled response, so when she turned off the water, meeting me with an expectant glare from over the top of her glass, I could only shrug. "You're gonna have to repeat that, Lu."

She rolled her eyes. "I only said, 'I know'. Why are you choosing right now to bring this up?"

"Because you're an idiot as well, and it's driving me crazy!" I interjected, and, fine, that could have been a bit more tactful, but Lucia actually benefits from bluntness most of the time, so I guess it wasn't so bad.

And, really, my patience had dwindled completely at this point. My sympathy was gone.

"Hey, I'm not the one who can't make up my fucking mind!" Lu sneered, slamming her half-empty glass onto the kitchen table, across from where I was sitting. "I swear, one minute he'll be _leering_ at me like he wants to, well, _do things…_ " She gesticulated vaguely, trailing off as her cheeks turned pink.

I coughed.

It took a moment for her to remember her point and speak up again. "And the next minute," she added, "he'll be wondering why I decided to kiss him. This is, of course, _after_ he stares at my lips for ten minutes straight. If he wants me, then what's his problem?"

"Dunno," I drawled, glancing downward at nothing in particular. "Didn't he say something about being straight?"

"He said that he was confused," she corrected, as if that made everything better. "And I'm not dressing up like a girl again just so he can resolve whatever shit is screwing with his head."

 _What the hell?_ Thoroughly confused, I let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Alright! That's alright. No one even listed that as an option, Lucia. Where did you get _that_ from?"

"Why don't you ask Mom?" she spat, puckering as if the words were poison lemon juice on her tongue. "Oh my god, do you _know_ what she said to me yesterday?"

Oh, this was sure to be fun. "What?"

"She wants to pull me out of school!" she cried out, and before I could even register the gravity of her words, she continued on. "Thinks that if there aren't other folks around, that I'll feel better about presenting like a girl. Like I fucking cared what people at school thought of me in the first place. Whenever I feel like wearing a skirt again, I'll go for it."

"Did you tell her that?"

"Would she have listened?"

"I don't know! You could at least give her a chance!" I realized I'd stood up, fists clenched at my sides, and suddenly felt a bit ridiculous. I sunk back down in my seat again, forcing myself to relax. "Cripes, Lu, you think she can read your mind or something? This isn't exactly something any of us have had experience with."

Lucia sighed, feigning calm more convincingly than I was—the only tip-off that she was still angry were the angry purple sparks of magic that escaped her fingertips as they thrummed on the counter. I'd never seen that happen before, but I assumed it was bad.

"I just want her to leave me alone," she groaned. "She's never been there for me before, so why should she start now?"

"Because she's Mom?" I retorted, sounding a bit more snide than I'd intended. "She's scatterbrained, but she does care about you, y'know."

"Yeah, sure. And it takes two weeks of _not even talking to her_ to get her concerned." The purple light from her fingertips turned red, and I started to worry that something would catch fire. "She acted all protective of me around Matthias, but she's never seemed to care who I fuck around with before."

Let me be clear: I didn't really understand the mystery that was my mother any more than Lucia did. But, while Lucia spent all her time trying to avoid even _thinking_ of our father, I could never censor my thoughts well enough to do that. That was the only way I could really relate to my parents, with my mom in Iceland half the year and my dad home forever. And now, after seeing how my mom talked about Dad as her soulmate, I could almost understand why she would do all this to Lucia at a moment's notice. She was naïve, awkward, and slightly offensive, but I knew she meant well.

"He's your soulmate, Lu," I said, strategically omitting the flowery explanations. My sister was too blunt for those, too stoic and closed off to understand.

"Fuck that," Lucia replied bitterly, but I could see the way her lip quivered even as she tried to keep it taut. She drew in a shaky breath, blinking several times in rapid succession. "Who needs soulmates, anyway?"

I went protective on her far too quickly, in retrospect. "Lu, it's gonna be fine-"

"No, it's not! What the fuck is going on with me? Why can't everyone just leave me the _hell_ alone?" Her words, paired with a heavy kick to the table, were loud enough to resonate the glasses on the shelf (not to mention the inside of my skull, which was pounding with adrenaline). I was startled enough that I was ready to give up on the whole thing and escape.

I jolted away from her and back toward the open doorway, but she held up a hand to stop me. She opened her mouth, but no words escaped from her lips.

"Lu-"

"I didn't mean it!" she blurted out. "I'm- I'm-"

"I get it, Lu," I replied, drawing closer again. "Long week. No problem. Would you feel better about this if I made hot chocolate?"

"Maybe a bit?" she said after a moment, time suddenly disturbingly even and calm.

I managed a smile nonetheless. "That's the spirit."

* * *

After school on Halloween, I plugged the coordinates into my mom's GPS and took off toward Katyusha's forest. It was about an hour and a half north of town—out of the city entirely—with nothing but barren pastures and scattered trees around. The woods themselves were still mostly green in spite of the season, composed of conifers that made me think of Christmas.

It was here, while the sun was sinking below the trees and casting everything in pale pink light, that I parked the car, zipped up my coat, and headed out into the unknown.

Katyusha had told me that she'd lead me in the right direction, but I didn't see her yet, so I just wandered around, weaving through trees as the the sky slowly faded from pink to burnt vermillion to black.

If only I had remembered to bring snacks.

But, before I could really pay much mind to my growling stomach, a small, white light fell onto the tip of my nose. It wasn't bright and blinding like an LED flashlight, but rather, it was small and soft shaky. At first, I wondered if it was just a glow-in-the-dark snowflake. Before I could even reason far enough to disprove that theory, the light began to hover about four inches away from my face at eye level.

Then, it veered to the left and floated away as I ran after it. It didn't slow down for me, soaring through the woods and maneuvering between trees as I struggled to keep up. The evergreen needles scratched against my hands and hair and jacket as I dodged yet another protruding limb, darted down a small hill, and found myself in a small clearing of brown grass and dead, termite-infested trees that had long since fallen to the ground.

Katyusha glowed in the midst of the wreckage, as dead as the foliage around her. She floated above a small mound of dirt that had clearly been packed down by someone human. "Hello," she said somberly over the whistling of the wind.

"Hi," I replied as I took off my satchel, opening it up and taking out the needed items. "So, what are we doing, exactly?"

"Restoring my brother's sanity. This is the place where he lost it."

"Right here? In Minnesota? Aren't you all Russian?"

"On the border of Russia and the Ukraine," she corrected before closing her eyes, focusing on recounting her story. "He had some business with another sorcerer named Chiara—one of the last soothsayers in the world."

"I know her," I thought aloud, eyes going wide. "Why did Ivan need to see her?"

She shrugged. "He told me he was looking for someone, but I do not know what. Ivan has always been very eccentric and kept a lot of secrets. But, since she cannot control what things she sees, the trip was in vain. We were all planning on going home the next day-"

"All of you?"

"Yes. Me, and my brother, and our little sister, Natalya," Katyusha continued, smiling fondly as she said her sister's name. "That last night, I wanted to take a walk, and they both accompanied me. We were here for a while, but since there was no trail, we wandered a bit, and I had lost my siblings. I remember looking up, and seeing the full moon. Something pounced on my face right then, and then there was nothing."

"Nothing?!" I yelped. "You mean, this is where you-"

She nodded. "When my brother heard the screams, I think he ran here right away, but there was nothing left to find—only a lone, rabid wolf, my dismembered body, and lots and lots of blood."

"Wait," I realized as my stomach started to churn, "so we're walking on-"

"The body was burned and the ashes were laid below me," she explained, "but there might still be some dried blood where you step."

I swallowed nervously, shifting my satchel around in front of me with my foot.

"Apparently, my brother was provoking the wolf. He thought it just ran away, but I suppose it saw another human, and…." She grimaced. "Ivan was livid. He killed the wolf, and ended up setting fire to half the woods around here, too (that is why the trees are dead here). He gave me a proper burial, packed his bags, and left with Natalya."

She paused, as if to give me a chance to comment, but I didn't know what to say to that, so she added on: "Natalya was sad, too, of course, but she seemed terrified of how Ivan was reacting as well. She doesn't seem happy doing the things he does, but she has never done anything but follow his lead."

"Cripes," I mumbled under my breath. I shivered as another harsh gust of wind flew by, leaving goosebumps in its wake as if Katyusha's tale hadn't caused enough gooseflesh up my arms already.

"The ritual has three stages," she said, segueing straight to business as if she hadn't just told me the spookiest horror story I'd ever heard in my life on a Halloween night. "First, you need to purify the burial site below me by burning the mint and lilac there." She moved out of the way as she gestured toward the mound below.

I nodded dumbly, pulling the herbs out of their ziplock bag and scattering them around the site. Then, I stepped back to light them on fire.

Wait a minute. "Um, I don't have any matches."

"You're a sorcerer, are you not?" Katyusha replied softly. "Point at the area and tell it to catch fire."

"Really? That's it?"

"The fire summoning spell is not complicated at all. There is no standard script for it. Just will for it to exist."

"Okay then," I muttered as I raised a dubious finger toward the burial site and said, confidently as I could, "fire it up."

And, without warning, the tip of my finger flared in pain as if from a small shock, and the site… actually fired it up.

Needless to say, I was impressed. "Whoa… How- what- I can just do that?"

"Yes."

"That's amazing!"

"No it's not," she chided, voice suddenly quavering with gravity again. "That's how my brother accidentally set these trees on fire. Fire is dangerously easy to summon; the trick is learning how not to summon it."

I blinked in astonishment. _Wow, this magic stuff actually sounds pretty dangerous._ "Got it. So, what's next."

"The fire has been going long enough for purification. You can put it out with the water now."

"Isn't there a spell for creating water, too?" I asked.

"Matter cannot be created or destroyed," she reminded me. "You can only move water from a nearby source."

Holy crap, was I so hyped that I had actually forgotten the laws of physics? I seriously needed to calm down. "Right. Yeah, that makes sense. I'll just… get that water then." I picked up the bottle of holy water I'd gotten the other day. Don't ask how I'd gotten a bottle of Aquafina sanctified by a priest. I know people, alright?

Hell, why did the water need to be holy in the first place? This wasn't exactly a religious ritual.

Shaking my head, I returned the the task at hand, pouring the bottle out onto the fire and smothering the flames until they died out.

"That was step one. For step two, you need to wait until the ashes are cool, and gather them up. Don't let them blow away. Then, you will need to draw a pentagram in the dirt."

It was a cold and windy night, so the second instruction was more difficult than the first. I had to keep a close watch of the ashes as I gathered them up in my dry, numb hands, placing them back in the ziplock bag and pinching the bag shut. I found a stick and slowly drew the pentagram, feeling more satanic with each line I drew. Then, I looked up at Katyusha again, waiting for the next instructions.

"Lay the stones down on the bottom two points," she said as I retrieved the jade and moonstone from my knapsack and set them in place.

"Then," she continued as the wind started to rustle the trees and fly through the loose dirt, quickly distorting my pentagram, "place the copper coins on the two points above those."

I got out my pennies (the only items I'd been able to supply on my own) and laid those down too.

"Now put the ashes on the top point in a little pile and hold the silver dagger with both hands "

I did as she said.

"Perfect. I must warn you, Emil, before you undergo this spell: you are dealing with dark magic. If you do not complete this spell once you start, you will no longer be worthy to deal with the dead like this. Understood?"

This suddenly sounded a lot scarier than it had before, but I nodded nonetheless. "Understood."

"Good. Now repeat after me..."

I don't remember what she said next, but I know that I didn't recognize the language it was in. Katyusha recited the incantation to me line by line as I regurgitated it back to her with increasing anxiety. Why was I holding a dagger? What was I going to do with it? What was I even saying? The pentagram in front of me started to glow as the spell drew on, and so did the silver dagger. Clearly, whatever it was, it was working.

After about five minutes of this, she fell silent for a while. Then, her voice low and foreboding and spooky, she spoke again. "Now take the dagger," she commanded, "draw it back, and stab yourself in the chest."

I'm shocked and appalled to say that I actually drew the knife back and was about half a second from killing myself before that damned puffin's words interjected deep in my skull.

 _Just remember this: a necromancer can only resurrect the dead at the cost of his own life._

More horrified than I'd ever been in my life, I jumped to my feet, hands shaky with adrenaline. I was so panic-stricken that nothing seemed real. The feeling of the dagger leaving my hands, the sound of it hitting the ground with a sharp _thud_ , the sight of Katyusha, caught between sympathy and hurt and frustration, insisting that I really did need to do this, that she needed this, that this was the only way to save them… it was all a million miles away, and I was alone in the dark, quivering where I stood, on the edge of consciousness. I didn't feel alive enough to be angry, though I distantly mused that I probably should have been. I had every right to be furious, but I was so petrified with fear that, as Katyusha faded into naught, and the glow of the pentagram and dagger faded to a dull glimmer, all I could hear was, _I told you so. I told you so, and I'm sorry you had to get hurt. Don't worry about the necromancy, kid, the loss of sight of the dead doesn't last forever. Few years, but not forever._

 _Wait, what?_ The words startled me back to reality. Only one person could possibly have said that to me, and he wasn't even a person.

But, as soon as I had the wits to reply, the light had faded entirely, and my sight was gone.

The first real, tactile feeling I had was a distinct itch in my eyes, so I rubbed at them softly, noticing they were wet and weary as if from crying. As my hand brushed my face, I felt quickly-freezing tracts of tears running down my face. The air felt thin, and I realized I was hyperventilating. My brain wouldn't let my breathing slow down right away, so I sat there in the cold a few more minutes until I regained control of myself. _In, hold, out. In, hold, out. You're not dead, you're breathing._ I shivered again as the wind blew stronger once more. I walked over to my bag, wiping the tears from my face. I had a pair of mittens and a hat in there, so I put those on and zipped the bag shut again, putting it on and left the forest, leaving the magical items behind forever.

Just as I was getting into the car, the first snowflake of the year fell from the sky, landing on my nose. It didn't glow like the magic lights earlier, but I decided that I preferred this frozen, crystalline droplet of water anyhow.

At least there was no deceit in nature.

* * *

 **END OF ACT III: EMIL**

* * *

 **A/N: I DID IT. I FINISHED THE CHAPTER. IT'S DONE... And so are my college apps and the next chapter and a half. I'm gonna try to get ahead over Thanksgiving break. Thank you all for continuing to read and review, you all really help me stay motivated! Hopefully, I'll see you all soon!**


	16. -Yet Another Brief Interlude-

_The wind blew through the trees, tearing loose brown leaves from their branches and tossing them about. Snow clung to the ground and the railings that lined the steps which, in turn, led to the porch of a quaint little two-storey house on the edges of a Minnesota town. In that house, beyond one frosted window, sat a boy with hair like the snow outside, sobbing._

 _He had no business being awake at two in the morning, and he knew it, but he was troubled and would not have been able to sleep even if his life depended on it._

 _No one had died. No one had been injured. He had escaped death, so he should really be celebrating, right?_

 _The boy scoffed amidst his tears. He wasn't in mourning. The feelings keeping him awake were of dread and guilt. Far worse, if you asked him. At least those in mourning didn't feel the need to blame themselves._

 _He shouldn't have even been alive. If he'd just thought things through all the way, he'd be dead and everyone else would be happy._

 _Who really needed him, anyway? What purpose did he serve? Where did he fit in the twisted, frayed threads that wove this tale? Was he important?_

 _What had he done so far? He'd failed to help work things out between his sister and her soulmate, he'd failed to capture the vampire, he'd failed to sacrifice himself for their one guaranteed chance of success…_

 _He'd failed not to be repulsively attracted to Andersen—no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't deny that one awful truth. Why was it always the guys who had already found their true loves?_

 _Emil Jensen was a failure._

* * *

" _Sir?" Tino called out to his captor, just as the man was about to turn out the lights._

 _Well, to call them lights would be a bit deceptive; there was only a single bulb attached to the ceiling of Tino's concrete cell, and its light was dim enough that the edges of the room remained in constant shadow._

 _The man's hand, which had been hovering by the light switch, fell to his side. "Yes?"_

 _Confident and determined not to wimp out, Tino's brow furrowed as he continued. "I'm ready. I… I'll do it. I'll kill Berwald. I'll liberate myself from him forever."_

 _The man's face was blank, save for the smug, almost unnoticeable upturn of his lip."Ah. I see. Well, I suppose I will tell Toris and Natalya that it is time to move to phase three, then. We leave at dawn."_

 _Tino glanced out the window and into the dark, endless Siberian night."So, noon then?"_

 _The man smiled. "Awfully astute. Dawn is at ten in the morning, so you may sleep in. I will see you then."_

" _Got it. Night, sir."_

 _Now, the man really did turn off the lights, shutting the door behind him as he bade Tino goodnight._

* * *

 _On the other side of the world, Matthias Andersen hurled his phone at the wall, barely missing a glass vase and knocking over a box of tissues._

 _Living with a neat freak like Berwald meant that the house was always kept pristine and organized, with every freshly-carved splinter in its place. The tissue box, now upside-down on the floor, looked ridiculously out of sorts. His brother would be sure to scold him for it._

What a fucking tragedy, _he thought to himself with a bitter laugh. Like he cared._

 _He'd screwed up, and he knew it. Whatever hopes he'd had of helping_ her _out were all but dashed, along with those naïve dreams of redeeming himself. In light of his avoidance of Lucia, his nightmares had returned, and he was as deprived of love as ever. No matter how he personally felt about this whole soulmate business, his subconscious seemed to have decided that Lucia was his true love, and as such, it refused to shut up about her. She plagued his dreams, and if he let his mind stray in class for too long, he'd start thinking about dates and weddings and suburban households with white picket fences and enough bedrooms for some little guys…_

 _Not that there were any little guys in his future, anyhow._

 _His gripings were interrupted by whoever was knocking furiously on the door, rapping an almost panicked-sounding tattoo into the wood that Andersen couldn't ignore even if he tried._

 _Curiosity getting the better of him, he walked across the living room and peered into the entryway. Angry purple eyes locked with his, silver hair lit pink in the late autumn sunset. The knocking ceased, though if Matthias listened closely enough, he might have been able to hear an impatient foot tapping on the porch._

 _Well, no chance of pretending he wasn't home at this point. Dejected, he stepped fully into the entryway and opened the door, letting the boy walk through. "What's up, Emil?"_

 _Emil scowled at him, and Matthias expected the boy to start cussing him out for hurting his sister (which, yes, he totally deserved)._

 _Instead, he grabbed Matthias' jaw, muttering the word "experimenting" through clenched teeth, and pulled Matthias down to kiss him._

 _The first thing Matthias thought as Emil shoved his tongue into his mouth was that this was absolutely nothing like kissing Lucia. There was nothing even remotely romantic about the way Emil's lips moved against his own, not a hint of anything but lust in the way their hips would meet every few moments, drawing a moan from Matthias' lips._

 _This was wrong. This was so, so wrong._

 _But, as Emil pushed him against the wall, he was too distracted to care._

 _Just as he was sure this kiss would be the death of him, Emil jerked his head back, grinning at him viciously. "So, about not being gay…"_

" _Fuck you," Matthias bit back. Their bodies were still flush against each other, and he was still too distracted from the buzz of hormones raging in his skull and in his stomach to really accept this as reality. "Is this your way of asking me out?"_

 _Emil had the decency to look taken aback for a full three seconds before he tossed his head back and cackled. "Hell no, Andersen. I need a distraction just as badly as you do."_

" _This isn't the kind of distraction I'm looking for."_

" _There's a shocker," the younger boy snarled as he continued to leer at him. "Tell me, Mat: are you just so sexually repressed that you can't accept how much you love my sister, or am I missing something? Because, trust me, this wouldn't be such a terrible…_ brouhaha _, if you were really as heterosexual as you claimed."_

" _Sex isn't the issue—it's romance," Matthias grunted out, finally finding the wits to push Emil's body off of his own. "Look at what you're doing to me right now. Is there anything romantic about this?"_

 _Emil suddenly seemed hyper-aware of Matthias' flushed skin and shallow breathing, of all his poorly-restrained physical reactions. His eyes raked over him, taking in every last flustered detail of his appearance. Then, to Matthias' surprise, he laughed again, though this time, it was an awkward and uncomfortable one. "Wow, didn't know you got worked up so easily. Do I remind you of Lu?"_

 _Matthias didn't even grace that with a proper response. "Did you just decide to be a tease today? If you're still trying to convince everyone you don't like me, you're doing a pretty shitty job."_

" _I'll admit I'm attracted to you when you explain how the hell you can be_ this gay—" _here, Emil paused to gesture vaguely toward Matthias, who was still hopelessly debauched_ "— _and still have the nerve to call yourself straight. The hell?"_

 _At a loss, Matthias shook his head. "It's really stupid. You'll think it's stupid."_

 _Emil deadpanned. "Try me."_

" _Y'know how most guys look at a pretty girl and think 'ooh, I'd tap that'? Or something like that?"_

 _He paused for some sort of confirmation, and Emil gave a half-hearted nod, prompting Matthias to go on._

" _Yeah, I never really understood that," he continued. "Girls were always, y'know, nice people that I could handle hugging, or kissing, or taking out on a date, but sex? Fuck no. That line of thought's gotten me in trouble with pretty much every ex-girlfriend I've ever had. On the other hand, guys are, well, you just saw. Don't get me wrong, I usually don't feel that way about them, it's just, well, get the right guy, in the right situation, and I….Yeah."_

" _And by that, you mean that if some reasonably attractive guy were to show up at your door and start making out with you…"_

 _Matthias rolled his eyes, though he finally let out a small laugh."Don't flatter yourself. You're too young for me."_

 _Emil decided that was fair enough—he_ was _only fifteen, after all. But, just out of curiosity, he met the boy's eyes and oh-so-innocently asked, "and thinking of dating one of those guys?"_

" _Would be really, really fucked up," he shot back abruptly before cutting himself off with a cringe. He has been expecting a question like that, but his response came out far more shortly than he'd intended. "Like I said," he added gingerly, "there was nothing romantic about what we just did."_

 _Suddenly, Emil's body decided that he was still a bit too close to Matthias for comfort, so he backed away another few steps—nothing romantic, indeed. "So the other day, when I was asking you about finally having a girl in a guy's body…. That wasn't just fuckboy logic?"_

" _Well, it's still sort of fuckboy logic. I can't quite think of her as a girl, which is pretty fucked up. I try to imagine it, but when I look, all I see is a guy. I can't go on a date with her when all I see is an attractive guy. I couldn't take advantage of her like that. It would be shitty of me. All the flirting is just making it worse. Is that what you wanted to hear?"_

 _Emil shook his head in disbelief. "Wow, no, I was right. You really are a fuckboy."_

" _I know, it's super problematic-"_

" _People are problematic," he spat, as if the very word was poison on his tongue. "No need to sit here bitching about it when you can do something about it. You're a fuckboy, and you're problematic, but I think I finally get why this is such a huge problem… and I think I have a plan now. Listen here…"_

* * *

" _Natalya!" Ivan called out as he marched into his sister's room._

 _Seemingly unperturbed by his tirade, Natalya just shrugged. "Yeah?" She was reading an old spellbook titled_ Necromancy for the Average Witch _, which seemed entirely more captivating than whatever Ivan had to say._

 _Ivan didn't like being ignored, though. "Where did Toris go?" he fumed, on the brink of a full-on meltdown._

 _Natalya bit her lip, and for a moment, she failed to mask the fear in her eyes. But, before her brother could notice, she shrugged again, tossing up a stoic front and turning to the next page of her book. "How should I know? He's_ your _personal slave."_

" _Yes, but-" He cut himself off and let out a sigh, taking the edge off his anger. "Fine. If he has not returned by tomorrow morning, then I will kill him myself the next time I see him."_

 _Natalya drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide with horror. Ivan gawked at her in confusion, but before he could even think to interrogate her, the woman's panic had subsided entirely._

 _Or, at least, it looked like her panic was gone._

" _Sure thing, brother. Whatever you want. Let's avenge Katyusha."_

 _Ivan carried on as if nothing had happened, but deep inside Natalya's mind lay unspoken words, words that she would never dare say to her brother._

' _Katyusha was always more important, anyway,' she almost let slip, 'and if you're so set on destroying soulmates, I'll keep mine as far from you as I can.'_

 _She didn't, though. She was smart—smart enough to bide her time until she was safe._

 _That didn't keep her from longing for Toris, though, as he escaped to safety like she'd asked him to do. She felt her heartstrings tug as if they were elastic stretching all the way to him, inches from snapping in half._

 _Her dear brother was mad, and there was no one to stop him from trying to defy the most powerful form of magic in the world. It was futile, completely futile._

 _No force of man or nature could force two soulmates apart, after all._

 **A/N: Yo, so... I'm back? I've written ahead quite a bit, actually, it's just the beta-reading process that's taking a bit ;P. Be patient with my beta reader; she's lovely, but she's working 60-hour weeks. Don't worry about DenIce being a thing here, DenNor is definitely end-game, and there certainly will not be a romance between those two mega-dorks. In fact, I was initially planning on leaving that sexual tension hanging, but it just became _so freaking tangible_ as I started writing this scene that I couldn't resist. So there. I'm closeted DenIce trash. Deal with it. Anyway, I've got another chapter up my sleeve, and I'm thinking I'm gonna post it in two weeks.**


	17. Act IV: Lu - No Romo, My Fair Brother

I'm going to assume you're waiting for the day I admit that falling in love isn't so bad. You all believe that in this chapter—or the next one, or the one after that—, I finally work things out with Matthias, admit my undying love for him, and (most importantly) make out.

Sorry to disappoint. Love still sucks. Pining from afar still sucks. You can't force me to like it.

Nothing could have forced me to hope for something better.

The minute I felt the separation anxiety set in, I resumed a plan I'd implemented earlier. Arthur had a book of love spells that was pretty all-encompassing, even if it did lack the theory and common sense warnings that professional sorcerers like Antonio had. On page 267 (which I had helpfully bookmarked), there was a spell titled "A Spell to Weaken One's Soulmate Bond".

Useful spell. Easy to perform. Lots of practical applications…

Like ignoring your douchebag of a soulmate, for instance. That one's a classic, sure everyone can relate.

I will admit that I'd changed in one way since that first kiss with Matthias, though: I'd ceased to care, to a greater extent. We could keep throwing ourselves at each other all we wanted, it didn't hurt me any. But, when it came down to it, he didn't have the guts to keep going on like that.

He'd made his choice, and I'd been forced into avoidance. That was our silent agreement as we went through the next few weeks, half-heartedly searching for a rogue vampire and a lost werewolf, slowly losing hope of finding either.

I could walk right next to him and pretend he didn't exist. I could ignore the tiny (but still incessant) tug on my heartstrings that told me I needed to speak to him, to reconcile, to figure out why I was supposed to fall in love with Matthias Andersen.

At this point, I couldn't tell if it was the soulmate thing or my own brain. I couldn't trust the judgement of either, anymore.

That was just fucking fine, though. I could lose my sanity without his help, thanks.

Actually, as far as sanity went, I'm pretty sure Emil was losing his much faster on that front. His decline had started right in the beginning of November, and he had steadily grown worse since then.

Our Tino rescue mission team had two meetings during that month to revamp the protection spells on the house (I'd carefully avoided talking to Matthias as I helped with the charms), and Chiara had shot Emil knowing glares the entire time. Emil had just shrugged as he scowled back, seeming to know as well as she did what those looks were about.

And if foreboding looks from a psychic weren't scary enough, his persistent nightmares definitely tipped me off that something was awry—something big and magic and scary enough that I probably wanted to spare Mom the details.

Which is why I waited until the day after Thanksgiving, the day my mother went back to Iceland, to talk to him.

And, even at that, it wasn't so much a conscious decision to wait until then as Emil's obvious need for an intervention _right then and there_ that drove me to do it. I was non-confrontational by nature, so things usually escalated a bit beyond the reasonable before I started to get dramatic.

This was so far beyond reasonable that I sort of wanted to laugh out of sheer hysteria.

Apparently, Emil's nightmares had gotten so bad that he'd curled up in my room. In my bed. Stealing my sheets.

The boy was sixteen years old.

What. The fuck.

Or, at least, that's what I was thinking at five in the morning, when I _should_ have been sleeping in and enjoying the tail end of my Thanksgiving break. Grumbling at my missing sheets and the obnoxious boy curled in a fetal position on the other side of my bed, I stood up.

As I stretched, popping the joints in my back, I gazed sleepily out the window. It was still dark out, and last night's snow had apparently turned into rain, resulting in cold, gray slush splattered across the barely-visible yard.

Lovely.

"Emil," I whispered, shaking him until he churned in the bed.

His eyes opened lazily, but when they met mine, they went wide-eyed in sleepy bemusement. "Lucia?" he replied, inhaling sharply as he shot up in his bed. "'S going on? It's the middle of the night."

"Why are you in my bed?"

"I'm in your bed?" he asked drowsily, though he seemed a bit more flustered than he should've been, like he was playing dumb. He stretched, back cracking as he ran a hand through his hair—which he only did when he was trying to seem casual. I didn't miss his flushed, pink cheeks as he rested his head back down on the bed, silver hair glowing yellow in the lamplight as it sprawled across my pillow. He blew his bangs out of his eyes so he could look at me.

Again, the smile he placed on his lips was carefully casual.

This was sure to be a fun conversation.

I shook my head, retrieving the swivel chair at my desk and sitting down on it beside the bed. "Yes, you're in my bed. And I know you didn't do that on accident, so why are you here?"

My brother bit his lip as he sheepishly glanced down at his hands, knowing he'd been caught. "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. It's- it's nothing, okay? Just leave me alone."

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but you're in my room. I know something's up, and if you don't tell me what it is then we're just going to have to sit here until you do."

Emil let out a sigh. He averted his gaze, looking at the floor as if that would keep him from needing to reply. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

"Are you sure, kid? Usually, these things are a bit easier if you have someone to confide in. Trust me, I know from experience."

He scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose like Mom did whenever she felt a migraine coming on. "Yeah, never heard that one before," he snarked back, rolling his eyes. "Thanks for the advice. Top notch, really. Why don't you go find your boyfriend and talk to him, instead? He seems plenty messed up as well."

His voice took on a strange quality, one that I'd only heard a few times before. Much to my surprise and horror, this was the same tone he used when he talked about Berwald's boyfriend, Tino; or when he talked about Julchen Beilschmidt and how far out of his league she was.

It was with this realization that I had to restrain myself from gagging. "You really _do_ have a thing for him, don't you?"

"It's no big deal. Really, Lucia. It's not like I can really do anything about it anyway. And, well, nevermind…. That's not what this is really about, anyway."

"Then what is it? Emil, you know you can tell me anything, right? I don't keep any secrets from you. Why be secretive with me?"

"Because it's crazy. Cripes, Lu, I'm going crazy. I… I'm just not ready to tell you yet. Lucia, I'm getting _nightmares_ again, like a little kid! Give me a bit of time to get a grip, alright?"

"Yeah, sure. Can you sleep in your own room, though? I've never shared a bed with anyone before, and I don't want my first time to be with my brother."

"Gross."

"Get out of here. Just quit taking about Matthias like he's some star-crossed lover of yours. That's supposed to be my job... and no more nightmares, got it? You've got nothing to be scared of."

"Whatever you say, Lu."

* * *

The weather continued in its indecisive Minnesotan cycle, snowing one day only to melt the next. With Christmas coming soon, public areas were decorated with a nauseating explosion of red and green and glitter. Classes passed in peace, and students continued to ignore the weird guy with the eyeliner who sat alone in the corner.

I hadn't had many friends in that hell-hole to begin with, so that was fine as well. Everything was just fine, no matter how Emil would stare at me like he was guilty of something. And Arthur could shove it with his 'sorry I can't help' looks. If he'd wanted to help, he shouldn't have met Allie Fucking Jones.

I was fine. It was all fine.

Until one day, a Monday on the second day of December, it _wasn't fine_.

And why not? I've got two words for you. Two words I'd never wanted to hear again.

Matthias Andersen.

 _Matthias. Andersen._

Screw him.

It all started so innocently, too. I was, as per usual, sitting at the lunch table alone, doing my homework and ignoring the human race, when the little shit snuck up behind me.

He crept up slowly, quietly, so as not to throw me off. I had headphones in, so any muffled shoe squeaks and coughs that might have tipped him off were lost on my ears.

I didn't even notice his shadow looming over me until he reached over and gently tugged an earbud out of my ear and put it in his own.

"Hey, I didn't know you liked Siouxsie and the Banshees!" Matthias cried out with a cheerful gleam in his eye. It was like the past few weeks hadn't even happened.

I almost wanted to play along with him, keep up the charade.

He was too suspicious, though. I yanked the earbud out of his ear and paused my music. "A good taste in music isn't going to make up for everything you've done."

"And a sour attitude like that is gonna alienate all the friends you have left," he shot back, like he cared whether I had friends or not. "Don't you ever think you could use more positivity in your life?"

Clearly, rudeness alone wasn't going to sway him. I let out a sigh. "What do you want, Matthias?"

"Well," he said as he gracelessly plopped his backpack on the table, taking the seat to my right, "I was thinking we could talk. I finally gathered my thoughts on this, I did a bit of research, and I think I have a plan on how to get you back to normal."

I perked up at that (against my will, stupid body), but Matthias cringed. "You do, uh, do you still want to break the spell. Ummm, right?"

Nervous. He was nervous… and he'd definitely rehearsed this.

In front of whom, though?

I shook off that useless question, opting instead to actually answer his question. "Yes, I'd love to get on with my life, but I don't see how that's possible, at this point. Clearly, you aren't about to fall in love with me-"

"Exactly!" Matthias replied, cutting me off. "I don't have any romantic feelings toward you right now, right?"

"Well, I dunno, there was that kiss, and that other kiss, and that other kiss-"

"You initiated two of them, and the other one was just to prove you were my soulmate."

I opened my mouth to argue again, but Matthias interrupted once more, trying his best to sound confident even as his face flushed red. "It's sexual attraction, all of it. Your love spell caused sexual attraction."

Wait. Fuck. Antonio's words from months and months ago came rushing back to me. He'd claimed that, since he was my soulmate, all he needed was a nudge in the right direction.

Maybe the 'nudge' he'd given wasn't a love spell. Maybe it was a sex spell.

Which means… I lowkey sex-pollened my soulmate?

"Lu?" Matthias asked as he laid a hand on my shoulder, brow furrowed in concern. "Look, Lu, I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable-"

"Wait!" I yelped, still deep in thought. "Shit. Fuck. No, you're right. Just lemme think for a minute."

Matthias was smart enough to shut up.

No, a sex spell wouldn't have made sense (as horrifyingly hilarious as that idea seemed). Antonio had no reason to deceive me about that.

The spell was a love spell, which caused overwhelming, obsessive love that could only be cured through an action of romance.

Or at least, that was how it usually worked.

Matthias Andersen _apparently_ wasn't interested in dating guys, and he had already been taken at the time, so that didn't happen. Even before I'd tried to break the spell, he'd refused to consider dating me.

That suggested that the magic from the love spell had latched onto another kind of love, a dirtier kind of love that was actually within Matthias' realm of possibilities: sexual attraction. He didn't love my personality, the idea of me; he loved my body. That's what he'd been trying to tell me this whole time.

And there lay the real problem. A romantic attraction spell was broken by an impulsive act of romantic love (i.e. a kiss), so… How was one supposed to break a sexual attraction spell? Well, how else: through an impulsive act of sexual desire.

A kiss (or three) wasn't going to cut it.

The spell wasn't broken, but I wasn't even going to _try_ to break something of that caliber. Matthias would just have to ignore whatever feelings this was causing.

"So, this whole thing's a mess," I thought aloud as Matthias nodded in earnest.

"You get it too, right?"

"What, that I accidentally sex-pollened you?" was the first thing that popped into my mind. _Why, brain, why?_

Matthias looked at me like I'd just grown another head. "No, I was actually thinking that a platonic route might be a better idea. I'm curious, though. What brought you to that conclusion?"

"The love spell… it didn't cause the right kind of love."

"Yeah, I figured. No big deal. You're hot, and now I'm aware. Doesn't keep me from being your friend."

"So your solution… is to go full-on no homo?"

"Exactly. We can hang out, do normal things that guys, y'know, do with each other, and see how that works out. No one said true love's kiss had to refer to romantic love," he pointed out.

This… was stunningly true. "You're right, that could work."

Though Matthias seemed a bit shocked that I'd agreed with him so readily, he recovered quickly. He held out a hand to shake as he laid down his terms. "So how about this: I pretend I don't think you're hot, you pretend you don't think I'm Prince Charming, and we both hang out at my house tomorrow and play video-games together like normal dudes?"

I saw no reason not to agree, so I shook his hand, trying to ignore the fact that _holy shit we were sort of holding hands_ in the name of our new agreement. "Sounds good."

"Awesome!" he replied as he withdrew his hand, a naïve light in his eyes that I hadn't seen since we'd first met.

This was bound to be interesting, whatever this was.

* * *

I couldn't stop thinking about _that_ conversation until I left to go vampire hunting with Emil. I was still a bit worried the kid was gonna get himself sucked dry (nervous enough that I was distracted from my conflicted feelings regarding Matthias), but vampire hunting seemed to be the only thing that got him excited, these days. I wasn't about to deprive him of his one last passion. We staked out around the slums—which were still the most commonly-targeted areas, since they had poorer security and drew less suspicion on the part of the police.

At least, that was what Emil and I speculated. We wandered around silently for a couple hours before Emil finally admitted that the vampire would already have hit by this point. Disheartened for the umpteenth time in a row, we walked out into the park, which was less crowded now that the grass was dead and the benches were perpetually cold and soggy and danker than my brother's memes.

This was where, in the midst of our disappointing, half-hearted search, we managed to spot a boy in tattered clothes, sobbing under a bare white ash tree.

He looked about eight years old, and he smelled like he hadn't showered since he'd left the womb. His face, fingers, as clothes were caked in something ruddy brown and sticky-looking, and there was more dust on him than that filthy _Peanuts_ character whose name suddenly escapes me.

… Pigpen. The character's name was Pigpen.

In case you needed to know that.

Whatever maternal instinct I had retained from Emil's childhood surfaced without warning, making me choke up as I got my knees in front of him so we were face to face. I desperately wanted to lick my finger and wipe the dirt off, but I didn't know where to start.

Instead, I began to speak, voice a little raspy. "Hey kid, what's wrong?"

The kid just continued bawling. If anything changed, he may have been crying harder.

Emil shuffled a bit in his place behind me. He'd never been very good with kids, and sit an emotionally distressed one right in front of him was… well, emotionally distressing. Reluctantly, he walked closer and asked, "do you know where we can find an adult you know?"

The kid thought for a second, still whimpering and shuddering with tears, then nodded slowly. "Yes, but she's a long way away."

Relieved, I relaxed my shoulders and let myself calm down a bit. "Good, that's good. Where are they? I can help you get back to them. Can you point?"

The kid bit his lip, bloodshot eyes widening with panic, and pointed directly behind himself. "My mommy's right over there."

I nodded, standing and motioning for Emil to follow as I walked over her direction.

"Lu, it's a bit late, and isn't this a bit sketchy? I have a bad feeling about-"

Before he could try to escape from this, I cut him off. "Don't wanna hear it right now," I snapped as I looked over my shoulder to make sure he was following us. He was, so I kept going, letting the kid murmur quiet directions as we went.

It was about a half-hour walk, and Emil muttered something about the kid being creepily good at remembering directions (for which I chided him again) as we rounded another corner.

The boy seemed to understand that Emil didn't like him, avoiding my brother and clinging to me.

Finally, after forty-five minutes, we reached an alleyway in the classier shopping district of the city.

"There she is," he said, pointing to a brown-haired woman lying on the ground, wearing a pencil skirt and a classy cardigan.

She wasn't breathing, and she lay in a pool of blood.

The boy looked disappointed in himself. "I couldn't stop it from happening, I'm sorry." He started crying again, confused and frustrated and utterly despaired. "It was a _monster!"_

I glanced at Emil, and he looked just as surprised as I was. "Well," he said, "why don't we get you home, then? We need to clean you up, and maybe you can help us find the monster."

"Okay. I can really come with you? Are you sure?"

"Of course," I told him with a smirk. "What's your name?"

"Andrei," the boy replied with the cutest little grin.

Might I have a soft spot for small children? Yeah, probably.

Was the 'are-you-an-idiot-why-would-you-do-this' look Emil shot me supposed to encourage me? Probably not.

Would I probably regret taking in a wayward child after a night or two of this? Definitely.

But, what the hell, why not? "Well, Andrei, guess where you get to spend the night?"

 **A/N: As promised, here's the next chapter! We're getting closer and closer to the end... In case you were wondering, Andrei is APH Moldova, and you'll be seeing more of him in the next couple chapters. A** **lso: *casually steals "no homo" plotline from _The Common Denominator_ ***

 **Rest assured, this no homo plotline will be a bit different from TCD's, but, y'know, it's one of my favorite tropes and it was bound to make an appearance somehow.**


	18. Vampires Stink (No, Really, They Do)

**A/N: I'm so, so sorry for the unannounced hiatus! I was busy writing for the Hetalia Big Bang 2017. The piece, called _Sheepskin_ , is on Ao3. It's a DenNor pottertalia fic and there's some great art to go with it. You should check it out :D. I'll probably re-post it here pretty soon (sans art, of course). Anyway, here's the long-awaited chapter! I'm already mostly done with chapter 19, so expect that very, very soon.**

Though there were a few perks to looking like a boy, there were a few choice reasons why I would have given almost anything to look like a girl again.

 _I didn't sign up for this shit,_ I mused to myself as I tumbled gracelessly out of bed in a mess of blankets and regret. I looked out the window at the gloom that was 5:30 in the fucking morning. The horizon was a deathly, emo, horror movie, Gerard Way-incarnate black, and it hurt just to look at it. The situation was only made worse by the fact that, technically, I _had_ signed myself up for this shit. But, it was far too early for such truthful technicalities.

It was too early for anything, really. Screw the men's hockey team, no one should ever have to wake up at 5:30 in the morning.

Grumbling inwardly at my (self-inflicted) misfortune, I tossed on some sweats and a coat, got my backpack and my hockey gear, and set off.

As I walked downstairs, I peered into my mother's room where I'd put up Andrei for the night. The boy looked like he'd fallen into a fitful sleep, eyes screwed shut as he kicked and flailed. His sheets had long since tumbled to the ground in a wrinkled knot, and he was shivering amidst his nighttime acrobatics.

I was already running late, but the poor kid's discomfort tugged at my heartstrings—he almost reminded me of Emil at that age. Unable to leave him like that, I dropped my bags on the ground and walked into the room, gathering up a thin sheet and pulling it over his little body, followed by his quilt and an extra blanket. Realizing he'd probably just kick them off again, I gently pushed the boy onto his stomach, tugging the blankets in around him. He wasn't trapped, exactly, but at least now he wasn't in any position to wiggle like before.

Satisfied, I ran a hand through his hair, only to draw back sharply. The kid was freezing cold; no wonder he'd been shivering. I added an extra blanket, wrote a quick note telling Emil that he should check to see if Andrei was sick and then realized I was now going to be twenty minutes late. I darted out the door and sprinted all the way to the rink, which was a mile out.

Too fucking early for this shit.

And speaking of shit…

* * *

"Y'smell like shit," Oxenstierna grunted as we stripped down in the locker room and headed for the showers.

I gawked at him. "So does everything else in here. We're literally in a sweaty men's locker room after a hockey practice. What were you expecting?"

The boy shook his head, pulling me aside just as we were about to round the corner into the showers. "No, 'm serious. Almost smells like…" He grabbed my hand and brought it to his werewolf super-nose, which immediately wrinkled in disgust.

"Vampire," he finished, dropping my hand in wide-eyed shock.

The pieces clicked into place, and I quickly explained, "we found a boy last night, said his mother was killed by vampires. He led us to the corpse and everything. I probably just got some of the scent on me."

"Ah," he said, but his dark eyebrows were still furrowed as he stared down at me skeptically. "Poor kid."

I pulled my hand back, involuntarily rubbing it on my towel like it was covered in cooties. "I know, right? I saw him sleeping when I was walking out the door this morning. He looked like he was having one hell of a nightmare. The kid kicked all his sheets off the bed; I could hear his teeth chattering from the hallway."

Berwald finally seemed to move on from the vampire scent, doubling back toward the showers alongside me. "Poor kid."

"Yeah, he's gotta be traumatized," I muttered.

Berwald grunted his affirmation, and that was the end of that. We showered in awkward silence (I still wasn't used to being surrounded by naked men, and I wasn't sure I wanted to be) before moving toward the locker area to get dressed. I shaved my face, which was an adventure unto itself, and I ended up stealing Berwald's aftershave just to see what it was like. It smelled the way I expected testosterone would - that bear-wrestling, football-playing, undeniably _masculine_ scent that I couldn't really describe without using a synonym of the word "man".

It felt a little cool, but also a little wrong. I wasn't sure how to feel about smelling like a man - not just a man, but _men_ in general. It did also kinda make me want to throttle a vampire, though.

* * *

Unfortunately, when I walked home from school that afternoon, the closest thing I got to a vampire that was primed and ready to throttle, was my emo little brother, moping in his room.

Fully intending to give him a sisterly pep-talk, I walked into his room, sparing a glance at him as he let out a frustrated groan at the sight of me. He was lying on his bed, boneless. He was also wearing a black hoodie, hood up, which only added to the dark-gray emo aura he was giving off. His finished physics homework was just sitting there on his chest, alongside his textbook, but he made no effort to move either of those.

I picked up his desk chair and pulled it right up to the bed so I could sit right next to him.

He rolled over so his back was facing me. The movement was probably supposed to look cold and affronted, but when his homework spilled to the ground with a hilarious _thud_ , all I could do was laugh at him. He groaned again, and collapsed onto his back. His hood fell down, and I laughed again.

"Can you please leave me alone?" he asked, politely enough. "I want to be able to sulk without you laughing at me."

"Emil," I cooed back, because honestly, he was being _really, really_ funny right now and though I was supposed to be giving him advice, could anyone really blame me for laughing?

Emil rolled his eyes, finally sitting up, though his head was still resting limply on the headboard. "Guess not. What do you want? Are you just going to tease me?"

I rolled my eyes right back at him, but I finally stopped laughing long enough to look him over. "No, I came here to talk to you."

"Awesome," he groused, pulling his best 'woe-is-me' pout as he (at long last) decided to actually look at me.

His eyes, I noticed, were bloodshot, with telltale gray bags of exhaustion hanging heavily beneath them. His whole face looked pale and clammy. He was breaking out, too, which was just sort of unfortunate. It was also obvious that he'd lost weight; he'd been skinny before, but now he was practically skeletal, skin sunken in around his bones. Probably because of the weight loss, he had a few bruises lining his wrists and neck- wait.

Wait.

"Is that a hickey?" I blurted before I could think better of myself, reaching over to poke the bruise that struck like a gray thunderhead above his collarbone.

His hand shot up to block me, pulling up his hoodie to hide the mark. "That's really none of your business," he shot back, cheeks filling with color like a madman was taking a pink paintbrush to his face.

Maybe this had something to do with his depression as of late? Maybe it was a symptom of it? Either way, I wanted to know what was up. "Sure it is, I'm your sister. Come on, did you finally get a guy or girl? We should have them over for dinner." I purposefully kept things casual, so he didn't feel obligated to spill his guts if there was something more going on.

Emil seemed grateful for that, which only worried me more. "He, uh, wants to keep it a secret," he replied. His eyes were averted, which meant he was either about to lie or tell me a half-truth. "He's still in the closet. And we aren't really dating. It's more of a… friends-with-benefits situation."

And if that didn't make a million alarm bells go off in my head…. "Wait, you finally got laid?" I asked, hoping desperately that I wouldn't have to give him The Talk again. Suddenly, I regretted waiting until Mom was gone to deal with this.

"No, not yet," he explained quickly, hands raised defensively.

I sighed in relief.

Emil couldn't seem to find the words he was looking for. When he continued, he started tripping over his words. "We just. Kinda. Make out. And stuff. Like I said, it's kinda private."

"That's fair."

"Yes, it is. Now, if that's the only reason you decided to bother me in the middle of my sulking session-"

"Wait, no, that wasn't it. I was wondering if you wanted to talk." And then, realizing we'd already been talking for several minutes, I added, "y'know, like, _actually_ talk."

Emil shook his head. "No way in hell."

 _Yeah, we'll see about that_. I went directly to my petty bribe. "I ordered chocolate-covered licorice on Amazon. It's yours if you finally tell me what the fuck is up."

I had fully expected that to make Emil _at least_ reconsider his decisions, but instead he started yelling at me. "Go to hell, Lu!" he shouted, sitting up straighter, fists clenched. This didn't look like a typical outburst from him, the kind that he paired with a cutesy pout and a scowl. He looked really, truly upset, and I had no idea why.

He was giving me the same dark look he'd shot me when Yong Soo had died, when Dad had died…. What was going on?

I didn't reply right away, but I didn't leave either, so Emil continued. "This isn't some sort of teenage crush that can be resolved with some candy and a sappy heart-to-heart, Lucia! This is real. Real and scary. It's not that I _won't_ tell you, or even that I don't think I _should_ —it's that I _can't._ I can't physically tell you what's going on and it hurts me, okay? But I really can't." His death glare softened, and his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. "I'm sorry," he added, once again looking more depressed than angry.

So, even if I hadn't been concerned before, that rant was terrifying. "Emil, you're scaring me," I told him, drawing closer and resting a light hand on his shoulder. He didn't pull away, so I left it there. "Did someone hurt you?"

Emil shook his head. "No. No one but myself."

"Is this about school?" I asked, hoping that maybe I could guess it if he gave me enough information. "Are your grades slipping? I know you get worked up about being good enough to get into a top-tier university, but there's nothing wrong with-"

"My grades are fine," he said, rolling his eyes again as if I were being completely ridiculous. "The 4.0 is still intact."

And then I remembered the only time I'd seen him interact with anyone else this last month: when Chiara Vargas had given him a look of guilty acknowledgement at the last meeting.

Emil had continued ranting on, but I hadn't been paying attention. All I caught was a mid-sentence nag that started with, "... seriously, Lu-"

"Is it a magic thing?" I interrupted. "Chiara looked at you funny last time she was over. She almost seemed to feel bad for you, and she never feels bad for anyone. She's also the one who bet you'd be magic, right?"

And then Emil was completely silent. Cornered, most likely.

Brilliant. "So, jackpot?"

He gave me another 'woe-is-me-the-weight-of-the-world-rests-on-my-shoulders' look. "Yeah."

Eloquent.

"So, what is it? You're a sorcerer now?" I demanded, suddenly curious beyond belief. He really was a sorcerer? He could do magic? He had a soulmate, now? Why had he kept this a secret from me?

He shrugged. "I guess."

In spite of his dismissive tone, I pressed him further. "But then… why wouldn't you tell me? Is there something else I'm missing?"

"Lu, I don't even know how to put it into words," he replied. "I don't even fully understand what's going on yet. But yes, it's a magic thing, and yes, it's a magic thing that I can't really tell you about very easily and- well- it isn't a good thing. I know you want more, but don't you think that's good enough for now?"

No. "Yeah, I guess so," I lied. "Thanks for talking, Emil. And hey, if you ever want to learn more about magic-"

"Just ask you." He nodded at me, smiling softly, tiredly. "I know, Lu. Thanks."

* * *

"Wow, you suck," I scoffed as Matthias managed to get himself killed for the thirteenth time in as many minutes.

The boy (who was, in fact, just a boy—not Prince Charming, I had to remind myself) looked back at me, lips pursed into a pout. "Hey, it's not my fault!" he whined. "I've never played _Legend of Zelda_ before."

"That is completely your fault. How could you live with the game _sitting in your living room_ for this long without playing it?"

We'd been playing some shitty basketball game for the first half-hour of our hangout before I finally protested enough to choose the game myself. Unfortunately, that didn't really help all that much. It seemed like every game one of us was good at, the other couldn't figure out.

And…. Fourteen. Fourteen deaths, thirteen-and-a-half minutes. I sighed. "This is literally the first boss. It's not hard."

"She's creepy!" Matthias sniveled. "I hate spider… things! Also, why are we inside a _talking tree?!"_

Had he no sense of imagination? "Plot," I said dismissively, pressing the 'play again' button. "Just play the game. I literally can't believe you've never played this before. It's a classic."

Matthias rolled his eyes, fingers thrumming vexedly on the controller. "Fantasy games are lame, though."

"You wound me."

"Well, good," he decided, dodging an arrow by luck alone. "You suck at basketball _._ "

"Because," I replied, "fuckboy sports video games are stupid."

"Okay, wait a minute!" Matthias shot back fiercely, but there was still laughter behind his words. "I- actually, I've got nothing."

Of course he didn't. His game had no depth.

He'd still won the debate, though, in a roundabout sort of way. "Are there any video games that both of us play?" I asked, opting to quit the game altogether rather than watch Matthias get killed for a fifteenth time.

"Probably not. I don't play fantasy games, and you don't play cool games, so I guess we're kinda stuck."

I was about to concede and suggest we watch a movie instead (maybe it wasn't too late at night for a _Lord of the Rings_ marathon), but then inspiration struck. "Do you play _Grand Theft Auto_?" I asked.

Matthias' eyes lit up instantly. "Hell yes, I do!" Just as quickly, though the light was gone, and he added, "but I don't have it."

Skeptical, I cast a knowing glare at Matthias' video game collection, which barely fit in a five-by-three-foot bookshelf. "How not? You've got a little video game shop over there."

"Long story," Mat said with a groan, like the very memory brought him shame. He stood up with a grunt, cracking his back as he walked up to the shelf, looking around for similar games. "Pretty much, every version of _GTA_ we have is broken, and Berwald and I haven't gotten a new copy yet. I've got…" Frustrated (well, he _looked_ frustrated), he turned away and pulled a game at random, holding it up for me to see. "I guess I've got…"

" _Mario Kart?"_ I queried, unimpressed.

He looked at me, likely seeking approval of some sort. "That's sort of a little bit close!"

Well, that was a laughable comparison. "Not really, but sure, I'll play _Mario Kart_. What do you have against fantasy video games, anyway?"

"I'm a shallow fuckboy, remember?" As if to accentuate his point, Matthias shelved the game, clearly not meaning to actually play it. He walked back over to the couch and sat down before he added, "Gotta keep up the reputation."

I raised an eyebrow. "No, actually."

"I don't play many video games, and Tino used to be really into first-person shooters, so I'd always just play those," he explained, glancing forlornly at the video game shelf. "Then some of the boys at school got me into those dumb sports games. Basketball's probably the lightest thing I've got—everything else is all football and wrestling and boxing. And why would I be interested in fantasy, anyway? My life is already a supernatural sitcom."

"Well," I replied with a shrug, "I guess it makes it feel a little less ridiculous when I practice actual witchcraft or talk to werewolves."

"Fair." He seemed to consider the idea for a moment. "I never really thought about it that way," he realized, sounding distant and distracted, all of a sudden.

His eyes were still concentrated on the shelf in the corner, and it took all my willpower not to snap my fingers in his face and demand him to look at me. Instead, I cleared my throat. "Like you said, you don't really play video games all that often. Are all these games Tino's?"

Matthias nodded. "Yup. You should've seen it when he moved in. He ran away from his parent's house (sort of with their permission; it's complicated) and all he brought was two bags: one for his clothes and stuff, and another one just for video games. Oh, and he brought a gun. I don't think he can legally carry a gun, but I never checked. He used to hunt with his family, I think…."

"Why'd he need to move out?" I prompted, before he got lost in dream-land completely. "Did his parents not like the whole werewolf thing?"

That seemed to bring him back to reality. He shook his head, then looked back at me. "Nah, they're cool. It was his own choice to get turned, none of their business, really." He waved a dismissive hand in my direction. To this day, I still have no idea how he switches from dreamy-and-depressed to cool-and-casual in a microsecond. "Tino just wanted to be closer to Berwald. He would visit his folks every couple weeks. I don't think his dad was hugely supportive, though. That was more of a 'my son is gay' thing than a 'my son is a werewolf' thing, funnily enough."

"God, really?" I asked, because _god, really?!_ I was almost morbidly curious enough that I wanted to meet the man in the flesh. Who in their right mind would choose a werewolf son over a gay son? Just based on the effort of parenting either, I'd think it'd be an easy choice.

"Yeah, really! Crazy, right?" Matthias let out a short, sardonic laugh. "That, and they lived on a farm outside of the city. Tino would've eaten all the animals over the full moon." His eyes were still on me, and he didn't go off into his own dream-world again, but there still seemed to be something distracting him, something beyond memories of Tino.

I tried to divert his attention back to me again. "Is breaking into farms a common thing for werewolves?"

"Oh yeah," he drawled, sniffing the air. Did he smell something? "Sometimes, I wake up miles out of the way, covered in feathers and chicken blood."

"Sounds fun," I said, but now I was distracted too. Was something burning? Did I have B.O.? I really hoped it wasn't B.O.; that would have been embarrassing.

"Hey, I'll take a chicken over a person any day," he replied, dark humor showing in both his words and the handsomely wolfish smirk he gave me. "I actually faint at the smell of human blood, you know."

"Wimp," I jeered, trying to think of a good way to check my armpits for body odor without making it look too obvious. I couldn't, so I just smiled back at him like there was nothing wrong.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a pansy…." I had been so focused on the possible causes of a bad odor (shit, bad breath?), that I hadn't noticed Matthias draw closer to me, wrinkling his nose in poorly-disguised repugnance. "Holy shit, it's you."

Suddenly, my cheeks were burning with embarrassment. "What's me?" I asked.

"I thought I was going crazy, but…." He leaned in and gingerly lifted my hand. For a shocking moment I thought he was gonna kiss it, but instead his nose touched my fingers just above the palm. He breathed in sharply, then coughed as if he'd been met with the scent of raw sewage, or cow manure, or something equally atrocious. "No, that's definitely vampire I'm smelling," he gagged, releasing my hand, "and it's not Vladimir. Why do you smell like vampire? "

Oh. So vampire smells kinda like B.O. to werewolves. Go figure. "Emil and I went vampire hunting yesterday," I explained, glad to have an easy answer. "I didn't see the vampire in person, but some kid's mom got killed, so we let him spend the night at our house. Guess I might've come in contact with him."

I thought that'd be good enough, but Matthias just cocked his head in confusion, nose still wrinkled as he furrowed his brow. "But that's, like, three times removed," he said, like I was being ridiculous. " _Maybe_ two, if the kid happened to touch the vampire. And dead people don't retain the vampire scent, anyway—the scent of human blood kinda reacts with it and blocks it out. That's why the vamp's been so hard to track. _And_ you've showered at least twice since last night."

"You can tell?" I asked, probably looking just as skeptical as he did.

"You smell like girly shampoo and Berwald's aftershave," he elaborated, leaning in and sniffing for effect. The fact that he knew the exact sorts of products I used was mostly dorky and creepy, but it also struck me as sort of endearing. He was observant. I liked observant people. "I can usually block out the supernatural werewolf-senses unless I'm trying to find something, but the scent of a vampire is like an alarm bell to me. Look, Lu, the scent isn't super strong, which is probably why it took so long for me to notice, but I definitely wouldn't be able to smell it if it was as far removed as you're describing."

Alright, so… was there another vampire that I'd met today? "What are you trying to say? Berwald didn't seem nearly this suspicious when he asked me about it this morning." And it was true; when we'd talked about it, Berwald didn't push the issue. He definitely would've, if he'd known I could be in danger.

"Berwald doesn't have my nose," he shot back, because he was a cocky prick. "I'm saying that you met the vampire. Sometime today, you met the vampire, and you somehow came in direct, physical contact with it."

By this point, I kinda caught his drift, but just to clarify, I prompted, "meaning that?"

Matthias looked me in the eye, gaze as intense as a bolt of lightning. "A vampire touched your hand. That's how close you were."

Well, if that didn't send spiders crawling up my arms… "Fucking shit."

I expected Matthias to show some sympathy and concern for the fact that I probably had a vampire stalker following me, but instead, his face lit up. "That's great!" he exclaimed, because, y'know, vampire stalkers are a _great_ thing. "That means we know who to look for. Think back to everyone you've talked to or might've come in contact with today. Hell, I might even be able to scent the vamp out, now that I know what I'm looking for."

Okay, fine, that made some sort of sense. "So, you're just gonna sniff out my hand, then we'll use you as some kind of… bloodhound?"

"Exactly," he replied, smirking in a self-satisfied sort of way that made me suspect there was some inside joke I was missing. "Just like a bloodhound!" He picked up my hand again, and pressed his nose to it to gauge the scent again.

I'd like to say I was dignified enough, especially under the soulmate-bond-weakening spell, that Matthias touching his nose to my hand, inches from _kissing it_ for the second time tonight, didn't give me butterflies. I'd be lying, though, if I did. My brain actually short-circuited for a moment before I could come up with a witty comment. "You know," I said, trying to sound sly (I didn't; I sounded dumb), "when I pictured us holding hands, this was not how it went down."

"There's a shocker," Matthias replied, pointedly looking away from me as he dropped my hand. He paused for a moment, seeming flustered, then shook his head. An easy smile popped onto his face almost automatically, and he started walking toward the door, waving for me to follow. "C'mon, follow me. I think I can retrace your steps back to the source."

* * *

Sometimes, I would forget that Matthias was a werewolf—well, perhaps _forget_ is the wrong word. The lycanthropy would just fade to the background, sometimes, when all I saw was a bubbly teenage boy.

On the streets, though, watching him dart back and forth across the sidewalk, sniffing at rusty street signs and warped park benches, it was all too obvious how wolf-like he was.

He was so canine that I was tempted to put a leash on him when he ran off . "Mat, wait up!"

Matthias, startled out of his own, highly focused world, visibly perked up as his head jolted in my direction. "Sorry! Got carried away," he replied as he halted. "The trail goes this way." He motioned not with his hands, but with his face, nose pointing in the direction of the street he'd been running toward.

I glanced up at the street sign, then rolled my eyes. "Haven't we already passed this way? Twice?" We'd tracked the vamp back up to the school, and now we'd doubled back past Matthias' house.

"Maybe you came in contact with it early in the morning? I wouldn't be too surprised if you did, actually. It kinda smelled like some soap you used was blocking it out, so it could have been before hockey practice. I think this is gonna take us all the way to your house."

Well, that didn't sound sketchy. Did I actually have a vampire stalking me? Maybe the vamp had gotten smart, scoped out the slayers before we could get him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The boy grimaced. "Nothing good, I'm guessing."

* * *

Sure enough, the trail really did lead to my house. We got there at around nine in the evening. The sky was pitch black, there was a foot of snow on the ground, and both our noses were Rudolph-red in the porchlight as I opened the front door. "Man, I'm getting déja vû," I snarked as I walked through, holding the door for Matthias.

"Do you even know how many times you've said that tonight?" Matthias moaned, sounding equal parts frustrated and good-natured. He stomped his snow-coated sneakers on the welcome mat, then passed through the door behind me. His nose was twitching almost uncontrollably, now, like my house absolutely reeked of… I need a better comparison than B.O.

"Well, it's the fourth time we've passed here," I pointed out. "I think I'm entitled to making the same joke multiple times, since we've been going in circles all evening. If he's here, why wouldn't you have smelled him right off the bat, anyway?"

"There's too many other scents out on the streets," he told me, though he seemed to be getting less and less invested in the conversation, and more and more invested in finding the source of the smell. "Vampire scent really isn't all that strong unless you're up close and personal. Once you're close, though…. It leaves a sort of trail, one that I can only pick up on through the combined scent of you and the vampire. That's the other reason it's so hard for me to track down vampires: I can only really latch onto the scent when they're touching human skin, but by the time the human starts bleeding, it's too late." He paused, giving the air a final whiff before deciding, "I think the vamp's on the main floor. Mind if I look around?"

"Knock yourself out."

And so he did, walking around the kitchen and the living room. Every once in awhile, he'd lift some random household item to his nose, then set it back down. It went like this up until he reached my mother's room, which was nearly hidden in a nook by the stairs. "You," he rasped in the direction of the door, voice suddenly low and growly like- okay, you get it. He's like a dog. He acts like a dog sometimes. He's a werewolf. You get it.

He made a beeline for the door and I just stood there gaping for a minute before I realized: Andrei. Andrei was in there. Emil and I had checked on him after school, and he'd wanted to read in my mother's room.

Either Matthias was about to hurt an innocent child, or I was a complete idiot who'd let a vampire sleep in my house.

No matter how much I chided him, Matthias wouldn't stop growling as he marched through the door, eyes narrowed at the boy. I thought he'd mentioned something about his father leaving his mother because he was unsafe around his own children, and I wondered if this was a similar sort of deal. Were werewolves just really, horrifically bad with kids?

I stood there in shock, but Matthias suddenly clutched my shoulder with a death grip and grunted, "Lu, it's him." He looked back and forth between me and the boy, who was scowling in anger even as his eyes were filled with fear.

"What do you mean?" I asked, hoping against hope that I wasn't stupid enough to let some kid vampire trick me.

Apparently, I was. "It's him, Lu. This kid's the vampire," Matthias grunted, lunging at the boy and pinning his little body to the wall of my living room. He'd shoved him powerfully enough that a nearby picture frame fell from the wall and shattered into thousands of glass shards on the floor.

Slowly but surely, the pieces clicked into place. The kid had had way too much blood on his body when I'd found him. I'd expected to be patching up wounds when we got home, but he'd been unscathed. Andrei had mumbled when I'd talked to him, but not out of shyness—now, beyond the spectacle of Matthias' arms holding the boy to the wall, I could barely see four sharp little fangs poking out from behind his lips. He hadn't even flinched when Matthias had shoved him, even if Mat's full strength would be enough to throttle any normal kid. Still, his grip on the little boy was white-knuckled and could have cracked my bones in two. His skin was sallow and bloodless, and his eyes were not brown (as I'd assumed earlier), but deep scarlet red.

In the end, we hadn't caught the vampire because we'd outsmarted it; we'd caught it because _I'm an idiot._


	19. Relationship Status? It's Complicated

**A/N: As of yet, folks have only had issues with this on Ao3, but I figured I'd post a warning for this anyway ( spoiler alert): as that one scene in the interlude implied, there _is_ in fact something going on between Matthias and Emil. It's definitely not a romance, and there's nothing overtly sexual, either (author is ace, so no thanks), but there's _stuff._ And it's not purely platonic _stuff._ I tried my best to make it ****palatable for people who don't like DenIce, but if you're really _that sensitive_ about this, you may want to tread lightly. This is still a DenNor fic, though! The DenNor in this will far outweigh any DenIce you'll ever see here.**

There were a thousand things I could have said, a million ways I could've responded to this stunning revelation. Andrei was our vampire! Andrei was a little kid, and he was our vampire! I'd been debriefed enough to know that some idiot had stolen Vlad's blood in order to turn a new vampire, but…. What kind of monster would do this to a _kid?_

Matthias still hadn't gotten control of himself; there was so much adrenaline and testosterone and whatever else coursing through his body that I saw the veins pop out on his tightened neck and arms, throbbing along to his frantic heartbeat. He clutched the collar of Andrei's shirt, and if the kid wasn't a vampire, I would've worried that Matthias was injuring him. In fact, I was a bit worried as it was: Andrei was bawling and yelling for help and telling me to get the "scary guy" away from him.

There were plenty of things I could've said that would've been helpful, but all that came out was, "really?"

"Yes, really!" Mat shouted back, eyes still drilling lasers into Andrei's skull. "See?! His fangs are starting to come out!"

 _Wait, vampire fangs are always visible, what-_

I looked down at the little vampire's mouth. Two rows of shark-like fangs protruded from the roof of his mouth and came to rest around his normal teeth.

I gaped, horrified. Now, I don't really want to talk about the Dragon Incident, but I think it's relevant here. Vlad helped us with the Incident, and one day, he nearly killed himself doing it.

I learned two things that day. One, don't separate a chupacabra from its goats or there will be literal hell to pay. Two, when vampire fangs protrude like that, in dense sawtooth rows alongside the natural incisors, the vamp in question is either starving to death or scared for its life. Vampire fangs are used for feeding, but they're also a defense mechanism.

And it didn't look like Andrei was very interested in drinking blood right now, so that left one conclusion to draw: this baby vampire was scared to death. "Hey, stop that!" I cried out, running up to Mat and trying to physically pull his hands away. "You're scaring him."

Matthias only tightened his grip, pulling Andrei away from me. "Isn't that the point?"

"Mat, he's just a kid! Look at him!" I tried to get between them, forcing Matthias away, but he blocked me.

"Lucia, his fangs are out, are you crazy?" he spluttered, finally breaking eye contact with Andrei to look at me with big, concerned eyes.

I rolled my eyes. "No, but you are! The kid is gonna wet himself, let him go!"

Then, with a physical startle like he was waking from a dream, he suddenly seemed to notice that _he_ was the only one acting completely crazy, and he finally dropped Andrei. The baby vampire immediately backed into a corner and sat down, hiding his face in his knees as he continued to sniffle. "You- you're right, sorry," Mat said with a sigh. "My instincts are going crazy, holy shit. But please just… don't get close to him when his fangs are out. Vampire Safety 101, y'know?"

I was about to argue, say that I could handle it myself, when I realized that this was also probably an instinctive thing. Werewolves were known for their possessiveness and tendency to defend their own. If he counted me as one of his own pack enough that he felt an innate need to keep me away from a rampaging vampire, that was probably good news for the soulmate bond.

And, fine, if there actually _was_ a Vampire Safety 101 class, 'don't go near a vampire with its super-fangs out' would probably be the first lesson. "Okay," I conceded, "I'll keep my distance. Let's question him civilly, though, okay? Maybe call Vlad up so he knows to come get him?"

"Yeah," Matthias said, scrubbing at the bridge of his nose like he was fighting off a sudden headache. His tone was still fierce and angry, but he was at least a bit more subdued, now. "Yeah, good idea. You go call him."

And that was when Emil came stomping down the stairs, adding to the commotion. "Alright, I don't know what's going on, but it sounded a lot like child abuse, so I- !"

He cut himself off as he took in the sight before him. Matthias was still flushed with lingering rage, and Andrei was still crying in the corner.

"Came down to see what was up?" he finished weakly. Clearly, his bold opening statement had been meant as a joke, and the truth was too close to his facetious presumptions for comfort.

"Andrei's a vampire," I explained, blunt and tactless enough that Emil actually gasped when I said it.

"You're joking, right?" he asked. "He's not- he is, isn't he?" The looks on our faces were too serious for a prank, and he realized it.

I nodded. "He really is."

"Okay," Emil agreed easily enough, "but then why does Matthias look like he's about to go all ragey-werewolf on everyone?"

"Apparently, he doesn't like vampires very much."

"Understatement of the century," Matthias grumbled back, voice lowered to a rasp, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to finally get a grip. Andrei whimpered particularly loudly as Matthias let out a menacing growl to clear his throat. "Natural reaction to threatening vampires. Sorry."

Emil snorted, levelling Matthias with a (god, was that supposed to be flirtatious?) smirk. "That's one hell of a natural reaction there, Andersen. I was asleep until you started yelling."

Wait. "Since when do you go to bed at nine in the evening?"

"Don't worry about it," he shot back dismissively. I would've pressed further, but he started talking to Matthias again. "So, we finally found him? Shouldn't we call Vlad, tell him we found his- uh, blood brother or something? By the way, why don't you get this way around Vlad?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "When has Vlad ever done anything remotely threatening?" My tone was mocking, but it was a valid question. Andrei hadn't even done anything; Matthias had just lunged right on him. What was going on?

Matthias ignored the tangent, still growling in the back of his throat. "We were just about to call when you came down," he said. "You do that while Lu and I question him."

Emil and I both looked at Matthias, barely holding himself together, then at each other, then back again.

"Maybe you should make the call?" Emil countered gingerly, wincing just a bit as he said it. "And maybe get some air, while you're at it?"

Matthias tilted his head and gave Emil a confused (but still angry and intimidating) look. He didn't say anything, though he looked like he wanted to. Perhaps he'd thought better of himself, realizing that he wasn't exactly being logical at the moment.

"He physically can't leave that spot until he knows I'm safe," I spitballed, noting the way he'd been twitching every time it looked like I was gonna move in closer to Andrei. "It's almost like he's imprinted on me, somehow."

I looked at Matthias for confirmation. He looked down and gave his shoes an apologetic and surprisingly submissive look, which was answer enough.

"Wow," Emil coughed, suddenly looking intensely uncomfortable and a little… jealous? No, I had to be misreading that pout and those furrowed brows. "Hot."

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up and get ahold of Vladimir."

That seemed to snap him out of it. "Yeah, yeah, okay," he stuttered out, "I'll make the call, then. Be right back."

And with that awkward remark, he left the room. I heard his feet pounding on the steps as he walked back up the stairs again.

"So," I said to Matthias, backing away slowly from Andrei, "there's no way this is just a natural reaction. That kid isn't being threatening at all; he's on the _defensive._ It doesn't add up, and we need to talk about it later, but for now: I vote we ignore whatever weird imprinting thing this is for the moment and focus on finding out what happened with Andrei here."

Matthias visibly flinched at the mention of Andrei (and, more understandably, at the mention of imprinting), but nodded nonetheless. "Yeah. Let's do that. I= I really have no idea what's going on, Lu."

I scoffed. "Well, it definitely complicates things. Why don't you just try to relax, and I'll ask the first few questions?"

"Okay," he agreed, "sounds like a plan." He collapsed onto the plush 80s-esque sofa that shared a wall with Andrei's corner, and rested his hands over his face.

I let him settle for about a minute, then I cleared my throat. "Hey, Andrei? I don't want you to come any closer—that boy over there's a werewolf, and he's usually pretty nice, but he got pretty worked up just now. Can you maybe show me your face, though? We're not going to hurt you, but all those extra fangs might if you don't calm down enough for them to retract."

Andrei sat there for a moment, unresponsive, then he lifted his head and gave me a slow nod. "Okay, just don't let him hurt me, okay?" His extra fangs were giving him a lisp, and it was kind of adorable, in a creepy-little-kid-vampire sort of way.

"He won't, promise." I put my hands up in truce, hoping he'd believe me. I really didn't want a thirsty baby vampire with fifty fangs attacking me. "I told you he was nice. You just need to let him calm down for a bit. See, he's even stopped growling now."

The kid looked over to where Matthias was lying on the couch, and sure enough, the low canine growl was gone. "That's good, I guess," he postulated, brow furrowed. His "s" sounds were still coming out as "th"'s because of all the sharp teeth in the way, but he still sounded very stern and serious.

"Yes, it is," I agreed. "Now, do you think you can answer a few questions for me? I promise no one will hurt you, however you answer them. It looks like you've had a hard couple of months."

"Yeah, I can try." He paused for a minute, making a scrunchy face that made me think he was going to sneeze. Then, bashful, he stuttered out, "I'm, well…"

"What?" I prompted, trying to keep my tone neutral, a blank slate so that he felt comfortable saying whatever he was thinking.

"I'm sorry for lying to you last night!" he exclaimed suddenly, looking very sorry indeed. "I didn't have anywhere to go, and, well, you two came up to me when I was lost and I was going to drink your, _y'know._ "

Oh, yes, I certainly _did_ know, and I certainly backed up a few steps at that.

"But your brother was there, too, so I couldn't do it, and you were talking about hunting vampires and- I couldn't tell you the truth!" he insisted, eyes wide with horror. "You would've killed me!"

"We definitely wouldn't have killed you. One of my good friends is a vampire, and he wants to help you." I thought of how torn up Vladimir would be at this story, at the knowledge that they'd used _his blood_ to ruin some poor kid's life. This was going to be a sad night.

I couldn't dwell on that right now, though. I still needed information, and unfortunately, Andrei was the only one who could give it to me. "That woman, the one who you said was your mother, was she the last person you drank?"

"Yes," he hiccuped, like he was uncomfortable at the mention of drinking blood—not a big surprise, from someone his age. "She was."

"How did you get her?" I asked. "Did you sneak up on her?"

"The person who turned me taught me a trick." He'd been taught by a human how to drink blood from people? That was beyond messed up. Everything about this was beyond messed up, from the backstory to the way the kid's voice wavered and his chin wobbled as he spoke. "He told me to- to go up to a grownup, and pretend I was lost. I say that I'm looking for my mom. Then they ask where I saw her, and I lead 'em to a dark place where we're alone. Then I drop something on the ground. Tell them I lost it. They bend down to pick it up and-"

He looked like he was about to cry again so I finished for him: "then you drink all their blood. And you'd do this every couple nights?"

"It used to be every night. Then he told me I was drinking too much, so I started doing it less. Then, last month, he just stopped coming. I didn't know what to do, so I'd just walk around all day until I found someone. Sometimes, I had to go a whole week without blood."

Humans had ten pints of blood in their body, and it sounded like he'd drunk from a human at least twice a week for the last few months…. This small child had to have consumed over 400 pints of blood, _50 gallons of blood_ , since he'd been turned. "Do you know how often most vampires drink blood?" I queried. I didn't think he'd know the answer, but I felt like he ought to.

He shook his head. "No, sorry." His "s"'s were clear again, and I noticed his fangs had retracted. That was a good sign; it meant he was getting more comfortable.

"That's okay," I assured him, smiling softly as I explained. "Most vampires drink about twice a month, and they only take about a pint of blood at a time."

"What's a pint?"

"Make a fist."

He did. It was smaller than I thought it'd be, so I changed my comparison on the fly.

"See how big that is?" I asked.

Andrei looked closely at his fist, inspected it from all angles. "Yep."

I looked his hand over as well, and did some quick guesswork. "It's about three of those," I told him, which was close enough for me. "It's two normal-sized cups. That's four cups of blood a month for most fully grown vampires. A little guy like you would only drink about the same amount as two of your fists every month."

His eyes widened, like he couldn't quite believe anyone could drink that little. "Really?"

"Do you know why you're so thirsty?" I asked gently.

I was worried he was about to panic again, but the question seemed to distract him enough that he stayed calm and contemplative. "I don't think so- wait, yeah, maybe. The guy who made me a vampire, he would make me drink this stuff sometimes. It would make me really thirsty. All my teeth would come down like they did just now."

What the fuck? "Really?"

"Yeah."

I didn't even know what to say to that, but luckily, Matthias did. "You must be really good at hiding your fangs, then," he said mirthfully as he sat up on the couch. He still looked on edge, and there was an undeniable bite to his tone, but he was putting on a pretty convincing act, lowering his head just slightly in subtle submission.

The vampire jumped, but when he saw that Matthias wasn't trying to kill him anymore, he gave the older boy a slow nod. "I am. See?" He folded his lips over his teeth and gave Matthias a toothless little grin. He looked ridiculous.

"Wow, you're pretty good at that," he replied, meeting my eyes knowingly then turning back to Andrei with a winning smile. "Hey, do you remember what that guy looked like? The one who turned you into a vampire?"

It was amazing how quickly he'd lightened the mood. Andrei started babbling, gesturing wildly as he said, "he had brown hair, and he was really, really skinny and pretty tall, but not as tall as you. His hands were all boney. It was creepy. He had a super silly accent, and a weird name, too. It started with a T. I think it was Tory, or something?"

And then Matthias' face went slack. "Toris?" he guessed.

"That's him!" Andrei replied, still smiling easily. "Do you know him? He's actually pretty nice, except when he'd give me the stuff that made me thirsty."

Matthias shook his head. He tried to smile again, but it wasn't quite as convincing. "No, I don't, but a friend of mine does."

I had no idea who this Toris guy was, but he sounded like bad news, given Matthias' reaction. Wanting privacy (and the freedom to curse as I pleased), I intercepted again. "Hey, Andrei, can you do me a favor?"

Andrei looked back at me. "Yeah?"

"I need you to go get Emil for me. He's upstairs in his room."

Andrei readily agreed, rushing off eagerly to get Emil.

Matthias deadpanned. "Toris turned him."

Great. "Who's Toris?"

"The guy who told me to break the bond."

I blinked. "You can't be serious."

Matthias rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, letting out a frustrated groan. He looked exhausted. "I'd suspected this, actually," he sighed, looking disappointed but not surprised. "When Vlad told me what happened, he said the guy who took the blood sample threatened to come after Nikolay if he didn't comply. That's why I joined up with them, even though I hate vampires and I can't stand the sight of blood. I knew that couldn't be a coincidence."

They were going after vampires, too? Someone really had it out for the supernatural creatures in this area. "But why would he do this if what he really wants is broken soulmate bonds?"

"I don't know," he moaned impatiently, "it doesn't make sense. And why toss an innocent kid into this mess?"

I was about to reply, but there was a knock on the door. Vladimir and Nikolay had arrived.

As expected, things only got more depressing from there. I won't give you all the details, but Vladimir definitely looked like he was going to cry when he saw that his "little brother" was some bright-eyed child who'd had a future. Nikolay had rested a stoic hand on his shoulder the whole time, occasionally muttering comforting words into Vlad's ear, which was a rare show of affection from those two. By the time they'd left with Andrei, it was one in the morning and the windchill was twenty below zero (hooray for Minnesota), so I let Matthias spend the night at my house. Exhausted, I'd left Emil to show Matthias where everything was while I went to bed.

We all woke up at around noon, still worn out from all the commotion of last night. Emil might have woken up earlier, but he'd spent the morning in his room anyway, probably engaging in his favorite hobby: sulking.

But, he came when I called him down for a really late breakfast, so I guess that's something.

He stumbled blearily down the stairs, still wearing pajamas, stretching and yawning as he took a seat across from me. Matthias sat at the head of the table, using a spoon to make the cinnamon and sugar on his oatmeal swirl. I hadn't even bothered with sugar; the stick of butter I'd melted in the microwave had almost all spilled on top of my oatmeal, and I didn't feel justified in adding sugar to that disaster of saturated fats and pending heart disease. There was enough butter on my oatmeal that one could actually see the greasy residue lining the rim of my bowl.

Emil eyed my dish warily. "Lucia, there's no way that's good for you."

Oh, like I didn't know that. "Shut up and eat. There's plenty more on the stove."

"There isn't any butter left, though, no thanks to you," he muttered defiantly as he made his way to the stove. Sure enough, the butter I'd left on the counter was gone, which meant I was eating at least… three-fourths of a stick? Probably more? Damn, that was disgusting.

I took a bite of the sludge, and tried to pretend that it didn't taste great. "I spilled it. Sue me."

"Sure you did," Emil replied as he sat back down at the table with his still-steaming bowl of oatmeal with a conservative amount of cinnamon on top. He took a bite, flinching at the heat, then set his spoon down to let the dish cool. "So, what did you two find out when I was upstairs? I never really got all the details." His question, I noticed, was directed at Matthias and not me. His eyes were locked with the other boy's, confident and curious.

Matthias returned the gaze full-force, simpering back at Emil like they'd just shared some complex inside joke. He still hadn't taken a single bite of food yet, and he kept stirring his breakfast like a witch's brew as he spoke. "A lot, actually. The guy who stole Vlad's blood to turn the kid is the same person who told me to undergo the soulmate spell. Arthur's already found traces of his magic at places where I saw him and the approximate area where Tino got kidnapped."

Emil leaned in, hands braced on the table like he could barely contain himself. "So it's all connected?!" he gushed with wide violet eyes, still looking right at Matthias. "We should call Arthur over! And Berwald, too. We might be able to track him down. Mat, this could lead us to Tino!"

"We know," said Mat, and now his smile had mellowed out, become more authentic and less cocky. I didn't know why, but I suddenly felt like a third wheel, watching the two of them exchange remarks. "I shot both of them a text right when I woke up. They should be here any second, actually. Hope there's enough oatmeal in the pot."

Matthias seemed genuinely happy, which was good, but he also looked… distracted? Stressed, maybe. I could understand that, since I was feeling it as well. It wasn't cold, but I still had goosebumps on my arms. It felt like we'd just peered over a hidden corner and noticed something big going on there, but hadn't looked for long enough to know what. It was frustrating, exhilarating, and, yes, stressful.

I nodded, deciding to insert myself into the conversation once more. "That should be fine. We definitely need to talk to them at some point, might as well get to it."

Emil still looked flabbergasted. "Wait, but why would some creep who wants to get rid of soulmate bonds for power have any use for a vampire? Much less one like Andrei? It doesn't add up. Are you sure it's the same guy?"

"Long, brown hair, named Toris, had a weird accent. Know many guys like that?"

"I-" he cut himself off, pretending to consider for a minute, then sighed. "No. No, I don't."

"And, according to Arthur, he's probably not the mastermind," Matthias added, and I started to wonder just how much I'd missed after I'd been kicked off the rescue team. Sure, I'd gotten the basics when I'd rejoined, but all of this was new information to me. Who was Toris? "We think he's working under someone else."

The next few seconds were terse and completely silent, save for the clinking of Matthias' spoon against his bowl as he finally lifted a spoonful to his mouth and ate.

I looked over at Emil, who was chewing on his lip as if that was the only thing that could keep him from speaking. He had that troubled, 'weight-of-the-world' look again, and when his eyes met mine, he recoiled as if he'd been shocked by my gaze. "Ivan Braginsky," he blurted suddenly, still recovering.

"What?" Matthias dropped his spoon, though he looked more shocked by Emil's frantic tone than the words themselves.

"The guy we're looking for," Emil explained. "His name's Ivan Braginsky. If Toris is the guy who kidnapped Tino, he's definitely an underling."

This was it? This was what he'd been hiding from me? He had information! How? Why? What magical ability did he have? Could he see the future, like Chiara? Or did he have visions of some sort?

Still looking alarmed, Matthias raised an eyebrow at Emil, who mouthed something back at him. Then, he let out a short, incredulous laugh. "God, Emil, what have you been smoking lately? You're acting cra-"

"Wait," I butt in, having recovered enough from the sudden confusion to participate in the conversation again. "Is this what you weren't telling me? Emil, are you psychic?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm not, but I know about this. It- yeah, it's a magic thing. I don't want to talk about it, really, but I think you need to know this. They're centered in Siberia. I don't know where, exactly, and I don't have enough specifics for us to go looking, but they're at an abandoned warehouse in Siberia. It looked like they hadn't been to the States in months. That's why I'm _asking—"_ here he turned back to Matthias, intense violet eyes meeting sky blue ones— "are you sure you've got the right guy?"

Clearly, Matthias didn't follow. He blinked a few times, disbelieving, then spluttered, "What- how- Emil, what are you doing? I thought-"

"Don't worry about it." Emil met Matthias glare, shot him a small smile, then turned back to me. "Look, Lu: either I had some pretty goddamn vivid hallucinations, or they're all stationed in Russia somewhere."

What…. What the actual fuck was going on between those two?

And of course that's when Arthur decided to let himself in. Fuck me for keeping the door unlocked last night. "Lucia? Berwald and I are here! Matthias said you all needed to talk to us!"

I sighed. "What, has your new girlfriend made you forget basic courtesy, too? Knock next time, dumbass."

Arthur gave me an offended harrumph, and he was probably about to nag me about daring to insult Allison Jones, but Berwald cleared his throat. "Sorry, Mat made it sound like y'were in a hurry, 'n' the door was unlocked."

"Yeah, yeah," I replied, a bit disappointed that Berwald had made Arthur sound so reasonable. "Come on in, there's still plenty of oatmeal if you're into that."

Both of them awkwardly shuffled into the kitchen. Arthur didn't take any food and sat as far away from me as possible, which was awkward, but acceptable, I guess. Berwald, on the other hand, muttered something about having skipped breakfast as he got himself a bowl of porridge. He sat down right next to Emil, who glanced at Berwald, then to Matthias, the back at Berwald. Then, he averted his gaze, cheeks bright red.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

"So, we found the vampire," Matthias began, and I guess that was as good an introduction as any. "He was just a little kid, so he was a bit too scared to give us too much information, but he says the guy who turned him was named Toris. That ring a bell?"

Arthur deadpanned. "You're joking. He wouldn't-"

"Been through this, Arthur," Berwald interjected, and I was suddenly infinitely curious to figure out what exactly was going on with Toris. "He could be under some sorta spell."

"He's been gone for so long, though…. Surely someone would've gone looking for him by now?" The distress in Arthur's tone was totally new to me. Usually, the boy was completely confident in his knowledge of all things supernatural. Nothing could faze him. This was the same boy who had looked me in the eye six months ago and declared with a straight face that he'd been cheating on me with his soulmate. Arthur had no tact, no fear, and all the nerve in the world.

And now he was cowering in denial over some dumb childhood friend who'd gone to the dark side.

"Okay," I resolved, having heard more than enough of this nonsense, "I still don't quite know what's going on, but if there's overwhelming proof that some guy did this, then that means he did it. No cutting corners, no denying it. This Toris guy kidnapped Tino, and he also turned an innocent third-grader into a vampire. Now, what are we going to do about it? These things have to be connected, somehow; we just haven't figured out how, yet."

Everyone seemed dumbstruck, which was completely useless.

I sighed. "I really hate saying this, but Arthur? You're the only one with enough knowledge about sorcery to really handle this. You need to pull yourself together."

"You're right," Arthur agreed very quietly. His hands were trembling, so he rested them on his lap as he scowled at me. "And you know I hate saying that, so we're even. If you, Mat, and Emil can tell me some of the areas where the vampire met up with Toris, then we might be able to gather enough magic from his signatures for a tracking spell, or even a summoning spell. Can you do that?"

Matthias spoke up. "Well, Andrei said he met him in person and that Toris cast spells on him, but I don't know where exactly he met him."

Arthur nodded. "Alright, then why don't we find out? We also need some people to sort through tracking spells. Lucia, could you and Matthias do that?"

"Sure, why not?" I thought it a bit odd that Arthur would choose _me_ , the rookie, to look for efficient spells with _Matthias_ , who wasn't even a sorcerer, but maybe he had some sort of agenda.

"Good. That'll allow me to figure out what Toris did to Andrei, which will make it easier to track down the evidence. Berwald, would you like to come with me?"

Berwald grunted in affirmation.

Arthur continued, looking pleased with himself and his brilliant plan. "Great. Oh, and Emil? You can come with us as well. Chiara told me you might be useful."

Taken aback, Emil pointed to himself, saying, "who, me? Go with you?" He cast Matthias a forlorn glance, and he didn't even look all that excited to be paired with Berwald on a mission, even though he'd been pining after that boy for months. Again, weird behavior from him. Finally, he gave a tired little huff and went on. "Of course she did. Well, I guess I could go…"

And with that half-hearted affirmation, Arthur declared the meeting a success and took off with Berwald and Emil, leaving only some spellbooks behind for me and Mat to leaf through.

"Ever feel like you always get stuck with the busywork?" I asked half an hour later as I took a sip from my mug of coffee. It was already lukewarm from sitting out for so long, and I winced as I swallowed the terrible, instant blend of watery shit.

Matthias scoffed as he turned the page in his respective spellbook. "No kidding. Damn, look at this one." He pointed at the page on the right, which showed a fancy white statue. " _The In Statuam Salis Spell: a Spell to Turn Your Enemies into Pillars of Salt._ Sounds useful."

"Yeah, that one's going right to the top of my April Fool's Day prank list. Is there any reversal spell?"

"Nope," Matthias replied, shaking his head. "Wait! Yes, the soulmate of the affected-"

"Has to initiate true love's kiss to return the victim to his or her true form," I finished verbatim. True love's kiss was the classic cure-all for jinxes. Almost anything could be fixed with true love's kiss. "Speaking of soulmates, any luck on that front, yet?"

Matthias raised one brow, eyes twinkling with mischief. "You do realize that's just a fancy way of asking if I wanna go out with you, right?"

"That's not what I meant!" I claimed, though he really wasn't wrong. "No, I just… well, I assumed that _something_ had to be different, with the way you were acting last night."

"Oh." Without even seeming to think about it, Matthias slammed his spellbook shut. His fingers gripped the spine rigidly, and the grip sort of reminded me of the hair claws I used to wear back before this mess had begun.

"Last night," Matthias iterated, eyes glazing over. "I- well, there's a theory about that, actually. It kinda goes back to the shit that went down a couple months back."

"What shit that went down a couple months back…?" And then it dawned on me. That full moon, out in the woods, when Berwald had told me to go find Matthias before he went insane. That full moon, out in the woods, when I'd stroked Matthias' fur like any old pet dog, when he'd relaxed under the feel of my skin. "The wolf."

That had been the first night I'd really felt like I had a soulmate.

"Yeah," Matthias agreed, snapping back to the present and plastering on a cheerful smile, "I think that my wolf form bonded with you! Which, I mean, it makes sense, since the wolf doesn't care about gender, anyway. I think that's what Berwald was banking on in the first place; we just didn't know that the bond would be so strong that it'd bleed into my human form when I get all hot and bothered and instinctual. Since the wolf realizes that you're my real soulmate, I think it went into some sort of primal state when it saw you near the vamp and just went crazy, I guess. That's what Emil thinks, at least."

Yeah, that did make- wait, Emil? "Wait, did you and Emil talk about this without me?" I asked, skeptical. "What all happened? He's been eyeing you all day."

Matthias coughed. "He's been talking to me a lot, lately. Seems to think I'm the only one who gets where he's coming from. We didn't exclude you on purpose last night, though! You seemed really tired, and you were already heading to bed, and Emil wanted to know what was up with me. He's a- well, he's a great friend. I wasn't expecting that."

And suddenly, everything was too much. I could barely wrap my head around the whole werewolf/soulmate bond things, but the look Matthias was giving me as he talked about Emil opened up new bounds of confusion. That look in his eye was the same look he'd been giving _me_ every time I'd flirted with him since I'd cast that quasi-sexual-attraction spell. That was the look that had made me kiss him, if only so that I could finally be rid of the sexual tension.

I thought back to the other day, when I'd noticed the hickeys lining Emil's neck. What had he said? " _He wants to keep it a secret…. He's still in the closet."_

The pieces all clicked into place at once. _Still in the closet my ass,_ I thought to myself.

Just to be sure, I asked, "Matthias, are you the one who's been making out with Emil?"

"You know about that?" Matthias shot back, and then he seemed to realize that that was the wrong answer. "I mean- look, Lucia, we're just friends."

"Who make out," I added, not convinced. "I saw the hickeys. Seriously, Matthias, hickeys?"

Matthias seemed to reason this out for a minute, debate a few replies, and decide 'fuck it all' before just saying, "Yes, okay! We're friends who make out. I'm sorry, he really didn't want to tell you, and I didn't think you'd be too crazy about the idea, and from the look on your face, I wasn't wrong. I just… this is a lot easier than thinking those things about you, okay? Here there's no strings attached. Emil isn't my soulmate, and he'll find someone else someday. He's been having a hard time keeping that magic stuff from you, and well, okay, yeah, me as well. He told me, and then he told me not to tell you, and I get why—trust me, if you knew it all, you'd probably be terrified. But I still hate that I had to hide stuff from you, because, y'know, this whole 'bros' thing was supposed to keep things honest and-"

"Shut up!" I interrupted, having heard more than enough of that mess. "You're rambling. I'm not mad, actually." And, for once, I really couldn't bring myself to be—at least, not when Matthias had never been friendlier with me and Emil had finally found someone he trusted enough to confide in. Might I have been a touch jealous, and a bit bothered they hadn't told me? Yeah, totally. But, what with all the other shit going down, I couldn't really blame them for doing things the way they had. "You two seem to have it figured out, and you've already made it clear that you aren't into me by now. And I never said you couldn't find someone else, in the meantime, especially someone you're not even romantically involved with. You're uh…. You said you were just friends."

Matthias nodded. "We are. No romo. No sex, either. That would be… yeah, that'd be awkward."

Damn straight. "Okay. Okay, I think I can deal with that. That- you and Emil, huh? Doing some weird queer-platonic stuff? Shit, that's a bit weird, but whatever works, I guess." My brother and my soulmate. Sounds like some god-awful rom-com to me.

I shifted gears. "Umm, so he thought that your wolf part and me were already bonded?"

"Yeah," he replied, picking up on my topic change seamlessly. "I think he compared me to an overprotective mother bear? I got really skittish about letting you get near the vampire."

Now that I thought about it, he wasn't wrong. "Okay, wait. This might help the plan along. Maybe if your wolf form came out more, then the spell would get weaker. The spell did say that falling in true love would break it. Maybe I should start spending the night over full moons?"

"Oh my god, could you though?" Matthias blurted. "That was the best full moon ever! I was actually sane, for once."

"I guess that's a yes, then," I determined. "Oh, and Mat?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm generally pretty chill, but, uhh…." I took the book from Mat's hands (he was still clutching it) and flipped back to the salt page. "Just saying, I don't care if you're my soulmate: you hurt Emil, and I'll _In Statuam Salis_ your ass and never kiss it better. Deal?"

At that, Matthias actually laughed. "Yeah, it's a deal."

 **A/N: Hey guys, I'm back again! This has been written for like, six weeks now, and I've already written ahead quite a bit, but I'm kinda stuck on the next chapter. I'm working it out, though! Expect that to come before the end of September, followed quickly by the chapter after that (which is already finished).** **Thanks to everyone who's continuing to read and review, even after almost two years! You guys are the best! :D**


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